


July

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: A Year of Writing [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha Thorin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Mpreg, Introspection, M/M, Modern Era, Omega Bilbo Baggins, Omega Verse, Post-Canon, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 20,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's relationship with Thorin is strange, and loving, and sometimes a little confusing and a little difficult, no matter the world they live in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Relaxation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin relax out in the sun.

"Thorin, come sit with me." Bilbo calls across the porch, voice soft and dreamy with the lingering's of sleep. 

Thorin's footsteps pad across the wooden floor, before his weight dips down the swinging seat beside Bilbo. "Have you been out here all day, love?" He asks, slouching to rest his head on Bilbo's shoulder.

Bilbo hums. "Possibly." He answers around a quiet yawn. "I came out to watch the birds, and I think I fell asleep..."

Thorin chuckles, patting his thigh and revelling in the content sigh Bilbo gives at the action. "Were you tired?"

"Not particularly." Bilbo chuckles, opening his eyes to meet Thorin's imploring ones. "It was just very warm."

Thorin laughs, his hand rubbing Bilbo's thigh more firmly as he watches him. "Like a cat, you are."

"Ah, I can't help it." Bilbo whines softly, tilting his head back again. "It's so relaxing here."

Thorin chuckles again, and starts to press small kisses to his neck. "I'd have to agree."

Bilbo smiles to himself, leaning into Thorin's loving touch. "We should do this more often..." He whispers.

Thorin hums in agreement, gripping Bilbo's thigh tightly, as if he could feel the bruises he'd left there earlier that morning. "I agree." He says again.

They'd decided to take a week long holiday to Bilbo's country house, of which he inherited from his parents after they passed. It was quiet, and fairly isolated. It was idyllic.

Bilbo loved it, and so did Thorin. 

They were able to spend a lot of quality time together, this way. It was very relaxing, and a much earned break after they'd worked so hard in the last few months. Even if Bilbo did end up with a few bruises and bite marks because Thorin was a little overenthusiastic, he didn't mind all that much - not at all, really.

After all, he left quite a few of his own.


	2. Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is a guardian angel.

Bilbo is a guardian angel. 

He'd been assigned to Thorin Oakenshield for as long as he could remember. He was a nice person to be assigned to, Bilbo thought, and somehow he'd been lucky enough that one of Thorin's early reincarnations had had him born into an immortal life.

Not every guardian angel was as lucky as Bilbo. They went through every reincarnation of their assigned person, watching them live and suffer and die over and over again. Guardian angels only died when they killed themselves - when the suffering of their assigned person got to them so deeply and they started to scratch at their skin and pull out all their feathers and ignore their duty in every essence.

Bilbo was glad to have been spared that fate. He'd seen it happen... and a guardian angel with blooded, featherless wings was a tragedy. 

Still, living with Thorin for all of eternity was bound to become stressful sometimes.

"You're ridiculously stubborn!" Bilbo cries. "You do this every time, Thorin, and don't tell me you don't because I've been there and you definitely do!"

Thorin shot him a glare, arms folded. 

"It's just Thranduil, Thorin." Bilbo sighs, drifting forwards to press his hands into Thorin's broad shoulders gently. "You two have never gotten along."

Thorin huffs, but succumbs to Bilbo's insistent petting. "I still don't like him." He mutters.

Bilbo chuckles. "Just do it, you're going to have to learn to tolerate him you know."

Thorin eyes him. "You don't mean...?"

"Oh, I do."

Thorin groans, slipping from Bilbo's grip. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Bilbo chuckles, drifting after his errant lover. "Thranduil is immortal this time around. I'm glad, he was getting a bit fussy last time." 

Thorin groans again, throwing himself down on their large, luxury bed. He glances out of the window-wall that the bed faces, towards the view of the forest below. 

Bilbo lets himself fall down beside Thorin, tucking his wings in. He rests his head onto the thick comforter, avoiding the pillow for now, to stare across at Thorin. "Feel better now?"   
He asks cheekily.

Thorin huffs again, rolling over to straddle Bilbo's thighs. He manhandles Bilbo's hands up above his head, and pins him there. "You should make me feel better." Thorin suggests with a salacious roll of his hips that has Bilbo flushing with excitement.

"And how could I possibly do that?" Bilbo replies, grinning widely.

Thorin gives him a heated look, leaning closer. "I'm sure you can think of something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished a stressful essay today (hence all the short chapters recently). It was nearly 5,000 words long ahhh ^____T
> 
> Either way, I just wanted to welcome everyone to a new month! Thank you for supporting me all this time <3


	3. Guardian Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Thorin gets lost.

Sometimes, Thorin's ability to get lost frustrated Bilbo.

It worried him, more than anything. In every life that Bilbo had watched over Thorin, he'd never failed to get himself lost at least once. In this lifetime, however, when Thorin was exposed to a range of creatures that were possibly twice as dangerous as the ordinary, intoxicated human, Bilbo got very anxious when he was late arriving home.

Bilbo supposed it didn't help that their home was sort of isolated. They lived in the forest, away from humans, for both privacy and to keep a distance from those who would want to meddle with Thorin's kind. 

So getting back home was a little bit of a challenge for Thorin, especially when Bilbo wasn't with him.

Bilbo was only just starting to get comfortable without Thorin with him. It was his duty to watch over Thorin - he always had, from birth to death, but now that he was immortal, there was sometimes no need for him to. 

Like when Thorin went to the grocery market.

All he had to do was pick up fresh bread and shortbread biscuits. They'd run out of both before Bilbo accompanied him to do the weekly shop, and Thorin had insisted on going himself. Bilbo had agreed that it wasn't all that much to do, but he should have been back by now.

Bilbo's wings were out and ruffled with anxiousness as he was readying himself to venture out after his lover, when he could suddenly see Thorin out from the view from their bed.

Bilbo almost collapsed back onto it in relief. Thorin looked a little flushed, from what he could see, probably from rushing home.

Bilbo gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to his heart. He didn't think he could go through another reincarnation, not after he'd spent so long with Thorin, after they'd gotten so intimate with one another. 

He was glad to see Thorin home.

"Bilbo, love?"

"I'm upstairs." He calls on a sigh, laying down on the spacious bed. It felt like he was sinking into the soft comforter.

He can hear Thorin's soft footsteps coming up the wooden stairs. "What are you doing up here?" He asks, sounding amused as he shuffles along the covers to lay across Bilbo's stomach.

Bilbo rests a hand in his hair. "Waiting for you, of course. Whatever else would I be doing?"

Thorin chuckles. "I kind of like hearing that." He admits sheepishly. "I'm terrible."

Bilbo perks a brow questioningly.

Thorin just grins, turning his face into Bilbo's stomach. "I feel spoilt." He says. "Your whole life always revolves around mine - around all of mine. You always make me feel at home. I feel lucky to have you."

Bilbo flushes, and pets Thorin's hair comfortingly. "My life does revolve around you." He says. He can feel Thorin smiling to himself, and it makes his stomach warm. "It always has, and it always will."


	4. Escapade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's head is too far in the clouds.
> 
> Bilbo's is firmly planted on the ground.

Thorin's head is too far in the clouds.

He's a dreamer, with aspirations higher than the stars, and brighten than them too. He knows the art of travel, knows how to look without seeing and see without looking - it's an aged talent, but he can do it, can experience things and remember and ache for more and more and more...

Bilbo's feet are firmly planted on the ground.

He's a realist, but he dreams of the moon and lives in the moment and reminisces. He knows the art of travel, knows how to think and how to feel and how to experience without ever leaving the confines of his comfortable world. He can take himself anywhere, any time, with falsely advertised pictures of hotel rooms and sunsets and misty mountains. 

When Thorin is sent to live with Bilbo, to ground him, a different sort of adventure occurs.

 

"You have to _imagine-"_ Bilbo insists, eyes alight with the reflection of some place other than his balcony. "Imagine you're there, Thorin."

"I don't understand, Bilbo-"

"Just listen!" Bilbo says. "Just think about it - think of the spirals on the cathedral, and the way the cobblestones are aged and worn from wear, and how the grass is a little less green in places because of the constant shadows. Can't you hear the birds, in the trees across the park? And the way the fountain doesn't sound so loud anymore."

Thorin's eyes are closed. "I can only see it when you speak."

 

"Travelling... I want to experience it." Thorin tells him one night, bundled up in blankets as they sit on his roof and watch the stars shimmer in the sky. "I want to see the world, see all the people and everything that _they_ think is average and boring and home..."

Bilbo twists the cup of hot chocolate in his hands, tracing his nail over the city's name that's printed across it. He has a lot of mugs with a lot of cities, even though he hasn't been to half of them. "I don't want to leave here." Bilbo says. "The pomp and circumstance of it all, of having to get used to a new bed, new food, new sunsets and sunrises... it's an affair."

Thorin hums, glancing down at his mug. "Wouldn't it be better to get one of these from it's namesake?"

Bilbo offers him a smile. "Isn't this just as good?"

 

"Thorin, wake up!"

Thorin jolted under Bilbo's hands, brow coated in sweat and hair a tangled snarl of inkiness against the pale sheets.

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asks, voice pleading for reassurance, his hands safe and comforting and _like home_ as they cradle Thorin's chin and smooth across his bare shoulders and brush back stray strands of his hair.

"I'm fine." Thorin chokes on his words. "I'm fine."

"What did you dream of?"

"Falling." He says, panting, as he lifts himself into Bilbo's embrace. "Right out of the sky."

"Don't dream of that." Bilbo says, almost chastising. "Don't stop shooting for the moon, Thorin, don't stop. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars, the stars we always watch - that _everyone_ sees."

Thorin was nodding, over and over and over, like he was still falling and only Bilbo was keeping him up.

 

"I'm cancelling my trip to the island." Thorin tells him as the lounge on the grass, under the trees, completely isolated from humanity. 

"Why?" Bilbo asks, brows puzzled. "I thought you wanted to go."

"I did." Thorin says, producing a brochure from his pocket. "Look."

Bilbo took the paper, crinkled and slightly boxed at the corners. On the cover was a horseshoe shaped beach, with fine sand the colour of ground wheat and several romantic wooden beach chairs set up perfect little rows. As Bilbo opened it, another picture greeted him - another beach, with a road following the shore and a line of palm trees sloping down the bank, the sun a warm and inviting presence in the background.

Upon reaching it, it seemed as though it were the perfect place to travel to. An idyllic little hide away, with perfect, tropical food and welcoming natives and a beach-side hotel with five-star amenities. 

"Why did you cancel?" Bilbo asks, handing the brochure back.

Thorin takes it, and tucks it back into his pocket before resting further into the grass. "It's probably hot, there." He says. "A quick and unpleasant climatic change - from sunny and warm to blistering heat awaits that moment I step off the plane. I'll sweat, and need to change when I get to the hotel - but before that, I'll have to take a taxi, and I'll be disappointed."

"Disappointed?"

"I imagine the island to look like it does in the brochure." Thorin says. "But the ten minute trip from the airport to the hotel will show me run down buildings and sun-faded signs and areas of urban decay that have coloured things grey instead of sunny yellow. I won't be _me_ during the time I'm there, I'll be someone else while the proper me has thoughts of his next vacation and that problem at work and the question of whether the hotel provides lunch with drinks stuck in his head. And I don't want to be him."

"Who do you want to be?"

"I want to be the person who takes the experience rather than the memory." Thorin says. "A camera can make the memory, but it can't make the experience."

Bilbo is silent for a moment, and he gets a crushing feeling of worry that maybe he hadn't fixed Thorin. Maybe he'd wiped out the Thorin that had first walked up his driveway with a solemn expression and fidgety feet and an expertly packed suitcase, keep in order because of experience rather than maintenance. 

"Do you still want to travel?" Bilbo asks.

"Yes." Thorin answers, straight away, and Bilbo's heart is set at ease a little. "But not as often. Will you travel with me, Bilbo? Will you come to far away places, despite the uncomfortable climates and the foreign beds and everything that comes along with it?"

Bilbo glances up at him, and maybe he sees the reflection of home in Thorin's eyes, sees the reflection of himself. "If you want me to." He answers with a smile.

There was a happy middle ground somewhere in between the clouds and the ground, where one could feel free and at home, without the fear of falling.

They'd find it, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit inspired by "The Art of Travel" by Alain de Button.


	5. The Weight Of A Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you for asking."

"I'm not much of a dancer." Thorin tells him, voice soft in his ear.

"It's alright." Bilbo replies, taking his palm as it's offered and fixing Thorin's hand to his waist. "We practiced." And they did, over and over and over in their front lounge room around the unpacked boxes and plastic-wrapped furniture, with the radio playing in the background.

It was tragically romantic, but Bilbo couldn't get enough of it.

"I'm happy." Thorin tells him.

It was such an open, such an _honest_ confession that Bilbo flushes in pleasure and can't help but smile. 

"I'm glad." Bilbo smiles, nudging Thorin into action as the music begins in the background. "I'm happy too."

Thorin's hand squeezes his waist gently as he turns Bilbo across the dance floor. "Today has been wonderful." He says. "Everything you planned has turned out perfect."

"Hardly." Bilbo chuckles, allowing himself to be swept closer to Thorin. "But I don't mind."

Thorin laughs, bending to press his forehead against Bilbo's. "Everyone's staring." He whispers.

"Of course they are." Bilbo whispers back, glancing up at him from under his eyelashes. "It's our first dance. They're meant to watch."

Thorin gives him a small smile. "I suppose so."

"Doesn't feel like they are." Bilbo tells him quietly. Thorin was leading without thinking about it now - Bilbo could feel it in his confident steps and his firm hands. 

Thorin hums in agreement. "Thank you." He says.

"What for?" Bilbo asks, puzzled. 

"For this." Thorin shrugs. "For everything. For saying yes, for marrying me."

Bilbo smiles, feeling heat pool in his stomach. They were married now - Thorin and himself, husbands. He could feel the weight of the ring, warmed by his skin, firmly on his hand. It would certainly take some time getting used to, but Bilbo couldn't help but feel an unrivalled happiness flood his heart whenever he glanced at it. 

Bilbo stills, standing up on the tips of his toes to gently press his lips to Thorin's. "Thank you for asking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by rainiejanie~ ^^


	6. Soothe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin

Fili frowned as he cradled Bilbo close to his chest. His little lover's face was all red, his hair dampened by sweat. He was panting.

It would still be another half-hour before either Thorin or Kili got back, so Fili was a little worried. He hadn't seen Bilbo this ill before, and wondered if it were a Hobbit ailment rather than a Dwarven one.

Bilbo whimpered a little, twisting in the sheets of their expansive bed. "Fili..." He breathed, voice high with distraught.

"I'm here." Fili told him, holding him just a little bit closer, Bilbo's head safely held in the crook of his elbow. "Try to get some rest, âmralimê."

Bilbo whined, brow furrowing as he squirmed a little more. "It's hot."

"I know." Fili whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Try to bear it."

Bilbo huffed loudly, turning his head to the side. He didn't try to say anything after that, and for that Fili was a little relieved. He wished he'd insisted Kili come back with him, like his little brother had offered, because he couldn't bring himself to leave Bilbo in search of help.

Not when he whimpered like he did when Fili tried to leave, even if it were just for a moment. Fili couldn't do that to him. 

Gently, he smoothed a hand down the side of Bilbo's face, wincing at the heat that met his palm. Bilbo's cheek could fit in his hand, and again Fili was surprised by just how delicate he could seem. Bilbo was usually so strong, and their size difference was never usually so noticeable.

But sick and in pain, Bilbo fit right into the circle of his arms.

Kili was the first to arrive at their room, and as soon as he caught sight of Bilbo curled up as he was, his jovial expression dropped into a frown of concern.

"Welcome back." Fili says, accepting the hand Kili places on his shoulder to lean across him and peer at Bilbo.

Bilbo weakly tried to mimic the sentiment, but he could hardly keep his head up.

"What happened?" Kili asks, turning his worried eyes towards Fili. "You should have come and got me, or Uncle."

"I couldn't leave him, Kee." Fili tells him quietly. "He's too upset."

Kili presses his lips against Fili's temple in understanding. "I'll go fetch Uncle."

Fili watched him go, before returning his eyes to his Hobbit. Bilbo was still panting, breath hot against Fili's neck, even as he weakly searched out Fili's hand.

"Don't worry, Bilbo." Fili soothes, stroking his thumb across Bilbo's cheek. He can feel the tears damp against Bilbo's skin, and bends to press his lips to Bilbo's forehead comfortingly. "You'll be alright."

It doesn't take long for Thorin to come sweeping in through the doors - it never did, not when it concerned his family, especially not when it concerned Bilbo.

"What's wrong with him?" He demands as soon as he sees the Hobbit, coming around to press a surprisingly gentle hand to Bilbo's forehead.

"Fever." Fili tells him. "I'm not sure if it's Dwarven or otherwise, but he was like this when I came in."

Thorin frowns, and begins to take off his coat and armour. When he's dressed in nothing but an undershirt and pants, he slips into the bed and gently takes the Hobbit from Fili.

Fili allows it, because he knows how protective Thorin is of Bilbo, and knows that as the biggest of them all, Bilbo likely felt the safest in Thorin's arms. 

"Go fetch Oin." Thorin tells him. "And Kili, go get fresh water and a washcloth."

They both nod, and after a lingering look at the Hobbit and a gentle kiss on the forehead from their Uncle, they hurry off to complete their assigned tasks.

Bilbo whimpers again, but quietens as Thorin murmurs comforting words to him.

"Do not fear, my love." Thorin smooths a hand down his back, cradling him close. "You'll be alright."


	7. Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin isn't really romantic.

"No, Thorin, you're not meant to glare at them like that!" Bilbo laughs quietly, jabbing Thorin in the side hard enough for the taller boy to jolt.

"I don't get it, Bilbo." Thorin's frown deepens as he hooks an arm around Bilbo's shoulders, pulling him closer. "They're just stars."

"But aren't they beautiful?"

"You're beautiful."

Bilbo's face flushes bright red, and Thorin's smug grin definitely said he knew what he was doing. "Shut up." Bilbo huffs, arms folded. "Look back up at the stars, you oaf."

Thorin was walking Bilbo home, and it was dark and late enough for every star to be visible in the night sky. Bilbo felt like it was just them in the world, because it was so quiet that not even the rumbling of a car engine in the distance could be heard. 

"How many do you think are up there?" Thorin asks, peering up above their heads sceptically.

"Too many to count." Bilbo replies. "You really don't like them?"

"I like them because you like them." Thorin replies with a shrug. "Besides, isn't stargazing romantic?"

Bilbo laughs, because it was just so strange to hear something like that come from Thorin's mouth. His boyfriend was usually quite gruff, and stubborn, and didn't really say such sappy things.

Not that Bilbo disliked it when he did, because he only did it to seduce or appease Bilbo, and it was quite adorable, if Bilbo were to be honest. But he liked Thorin being Thorin, even if he were only romantic in complete privacy.

"They are." Bilbo agrees, smiling up at Thorin. "Thank you for taking me home, Thorin. I really appreciate it."

Thorin blinks at his upturned face several times, before roughly jerking his eyes away. "It's not a problem." He mumbles, which Bilbo knew was his way of saying _"you're welcome"._

Bilbo smiles again, cuddling into Thorin's side. Thorin's arm, heavy across his shoulders, dipped to cradle his waist comfortingly. 

Even if Thorin wasn't always romantic, he was always there for Bilbo, whenever he needed him. That was all Bilbo could ever ask for.


	8. Truthful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets freckles in the sun.
> 
> Thorin likes them.

Bilbo gets freckles, across his shoulders and sometimes on his waist and his cheeks when he's in the sun for too long.

Thorin like them. Enjoys the fact that he's the only one that knows the extent of them, knows where to find them, because he's the only one who is allowed to see Bilbo for all he's worth, completely bared.

Bilbo doesn't really like them, though. Thorin always catches him sighing or huffing at his reflection in the mirror after a day spent mostly in the sun. And while he thinks Bilbo is effortlessly cute when he does so, Thorin wished he would come to see himself the way Thorin does.

Because he's quite beautiful, freckles or not. And he's got eyes that only see the good in people, and hands that are capable of anything he sets his mind to. Thorin is drawn to him, drawn to his vitality and his personality and his voice. 

Of course, even if Thorin is enamoured with him, Bilbo still dislikes his freckles.

Sometimes, Thorin had to laugh at his lover. 

"They're just freckles." He'd say, and Bilbo would turn his huffing and glaring at Thorin instead.

"They're _hideous."_

"They're beautiful."

Bilbo was never really able to talk after Thorin said things like that. He'd turn red, and look vaguely insulted, but Thorin knew he appreciated the sentiment.

He knew Thorin would never be untruthful to him, after all. Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, just reached my minimum word limit today ^___T
> 
> Sorry about this string of short fics, I've been under the weather lately.


	9. Occupational Hazzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin accidentally knocks out Bilbo.

Working at a recreation centre could sometimes have its drawbacks.

Little kids often swung their rackets into his hips when they were being rather rambunctious, and it wasn't uncommon for the stray squash ball to come flying out of nowhere. Working on the fields, however, could be much more dangerous - particularly because of baseballs, it seemed.

Bilbo hadn't even seen it coming, to be fair. Had his back turned to the field as he sorted through the sign-in sheet and made sure all the equipment from the second field had been returned to its proper place, and that nothing was damaged. 

Of course, waking up with his head in the lap of a rather handsome, albeit panicked man could be considered a perk of the job.

"Are you alright?" He cried, and _oh_ was his voice deep and spine-tingling. Bilbo would have blushed, if not for the fact his head was spinning and he most likely had a rather sizeable lump forming.

Bilbo could faintly make out that the man's companions were cackling, bent over their knees even as they were scolded by yet another man. He supposed he would have laughed, too, but he was fairly certain they were laughing at the man's rather frazzled expression.

"He's not dead, Thorin." The other man, of whom was quite big and looked a little intimidated, groused as he whacked Thorin across the back of his head. "Quit your grovelling and move him to the shade, will you?"

Bilbo most certainly flushed as Thorin effortlessly lifted him from the ground to take him into the shade of the dug-out. Honestly, Bilbo could feel the muscles in his arms, and how large and strong they were. It was ridiculous, his weak-willed heart couldn't take much more of this.

"Are you alright?" Thorin asks as he props Bilbo on the seat, touching the back of his head and wincing when he feels the lump.

"I'm alright." Bilbo finally answers. "What happened?"

"U-uh, well..." Thorin looked away, appearing decidedly more red than he had previously.

"Thorin here whacked a ball all the way into yer head." The other man provided, passing Bilbo a bottle of water over Thorin's shoulder. "I think he's mighty sorry." He says, pointedly knocking his knee into Thorin's back. 

Thorin huffs up at him, but turns his gaze back to Bilbo. "I am sorry." He says honestly. "For hurting you."

Bilbo offers a weak smile. "It's okay." He answers. "Occupational hazard, I suppose."

Thorin gives him a small smile. 

His companion huffs, kneeing Thorin again. "You gonna make eyes at him all day, or do something about it? Your nephews are starting to get fidgety, Thorin."

Thorin shoots him a ferocious scowl.

Bilbo bites his lip to muffle a little laugh, but he offers Thorin his hand. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

Thorin gives him another smile. "Thorin Oakenshield, at yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned


	10. First Glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo often wakes Thorin in the morning.

Bilbo yawned, sleepily lifting a hand to cover his mouth.

Running a bakery was difficult, sometimes, especially with the early mornings. He used to resent them, but they were in his nature now, and he found that he'd become accustomed to waking with the sun. It didn't bother him nearly as much anymore.

It did, however, bother his husband.

Thorin was a very clingy sleeper. His arm was always heavy and tight across Bilbo's waist, and Bilbo was never shocked to wake up with a huge thigh tossed over both of his anymore. Still, Thorin was getting used to the early mornings too. He sometimes wandered down to help Bilbo, or even to just cuddle up against his back as though he were small enough to do so and could possibly fall asleep standing there.

He couldn't, of course, but it was still ridiculously cute to watch him try.

Today wasn't one of those mornings, but when Bilbo checked the clock, he knew that Thorin would be waking up any moment now. 

Mind set, Bilbo put the freshly rolled bread into the oven to bake before wandering back up the stairs, coffee in hand. He often woke up Thorin like this, and loved to be able to do so. It was another perk of being the first in the house to rise, he supposed.

Thorin was nothing more than a lump curled up under a mountain of blankets when Bilbo slipped into their room. He wanted to laugh, because Thorin was extremely opposed to waking up some days, and today might have been one of them.

"Thorin." He whispers softly, placing the coffee on the bedside table to free up his hands so that he could worm them under the covers. "Time to wake up, love."

Thorin groans, cringing away from his wandering hands.

Bilbo laughs, gently pulling the covers from Thorin's grip. He pressed his hand against Thorin's face, feeling the scratchiness of his beard and the faint indentations left from the pillow he's slept on.

"It's time to wake up." He repeats, thumb brushing across Thorin's cheek.

Thorin blearily peers up at him, eyes misted with sleep, and the darkest blue they ever would be. It was a breathtaking look, as was the lazy smile that slipped across his face.

"Morning." He whispers.

"Good morning." Bilbo replies. "I brought you coffee."

Thorin just smiles at him again.

"Why are you so smiley this morning?' Bilbo chuckles.

"You are the first thing I saw today." Thorin says, voice rough with sleep. "I opened my eyes, and there you were, looking down at me with the prettiest smile..."

Bilbo flushes, but something deep inside him delights at hearing that. To think he was the very first thing Thorin opened his eyes up to, it made him feel very honoured. 

"It's time to get up." He repeats.

Thorin laughs, clearly happy with the fact that Bilbo was too embarrassed to say anything else. He reaches up a hand, cups the back of Bilbo's neck to bring him down into a kiss, before letting him go.

"Now I'll get up." He grins.

Bilbo rolls his eyes, but his face is red and his eyes are delightfully bright. He passes Thorin the mug of coffee, clicking his tongue at him once. "Cheeky."


	11. A Variety Of People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo thinks about his customers.

Bilbo worked as a hairdresser.

It was more of a side job, really, because being an author wasn't always profitable. He was more of a casual worker, but his hours were decent and he made enough money to live comfortably.

Besides, it wasn't as though he were bad at it, or that he disliked it. He rather liked the socialisation it entailed - of which was purely gossip, of course - because it wasn't aimed at him, or about him, and all he had to do was listen and work. 

And he got payed for it.

His regulars were all lovely people, too. A tall, beautiful women named Tauriel with the longest auburn hair often stopped by, as well as Galion, who Bilbo knew through the writing industry. There were also the more monstrous of customers, including a strong, yet effortlessly graceful man named Thranduil. The other workers were too intimidated by him, but Bilbo wasn't, and Thranduil had the loveliest hair of them all, he thought. 

He also had somewhat more... _rowdy_ customers that often came in. Fili and Kili instantly sprung to mind - brothers, but with hair so startling different that if their attitudes (and last names) were not so similar he would not have believed them to be related. 

They had an uncle, too, who came in, though not nearly as often. He was rather attractive, Bilbo thought, in a dark and brooding sort of way. He didn't talk often, but answered questions readily. 

Bilbo kind of liked him. It was draining, sometimes, to keep up with all the gossip, and to have his ear chattered off for hours on end. The silence with Thorin was comfortable. 

And he had impeccable timing, too. He always showed up on the days when Bilbo was being all but eaten up by boredom. 

And although his nephews were always in tow, Bilbo never minded much. They could be good company if they wanted to be. 

It was always nice to work on Thorin. Calming, and repetitive - the man didn't often do much with his hair, other than trim and treat it. Bilbo was always careful to make it perfect.

The smile in thanks he got from Thorin was worth the extra attention.

And if he ever heard Kili and Fili whispering about some sort of crush Thorin had on him, well, he'd never deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Meg_Thilbo
> 
> Sorry that it's short, today has been really stressful and draining T_T


	12. A Matter Of Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is an adventurer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin

Bilbo was an adventurer. He'd always been, ever since he was little. 

Hobbit's weren't always adventurers. They used to live in an idyllic little place called the Shire, or so the stories told. After the Fell Winter, the Shire became unliveable, ravaged by a cold that created permafrost and destroyed any agricultural prospects. Not to mention the Wolves and the Orcs - they tainted that place, and no Hobbit would dare return where so much blood had been shed.

Still, Hobbits only adventured until they found a home. Bilbo's parents had lived in a Hobbit settlement, where many Hobbits had made their home and were content to rebuild a liveable community.

After Bilbo's parents had died, he'd set to adventuring - despite his young age, he found it manageable, and was glad to be rid of his oppressive and judgemental relatives.

Either way, he liked to see the world, and to draw maps of all the places he'd been. He had so many stories to tell, only...

No one to tell them to.

He was travelling near Esgaroth, avoiding the settlements of Men in favour for circling the Lonely Mountain, when a pack of Orcs riding atop of Wargs cornered him.

He'd heard them coming, and tried to hide - and it'd worked, too, until he realised that the Wargs were racing head-on towards a company of Dwarves that were heading towards Esgaroth. 

Bilbo couldn't look away, not as the Dwarves fought with efficiency and a level of teamwork Bilbo had never witnessed before. They were like a well-oiled machine, proficient, almost hypnotizing to watch. 

Hobbits didn't fight, not like that.

He wanted to see more.

Of course, all those thoughts were far-fetched and barley-there, because Bilbo was too busy watching what was happening and diving out of the way of a rolling Warg as it snarled and spluttered into quietness.

He was tempted to leave while he could, but something made him stay.

Movement caught his eye, and he watched in discomfort as a Warg and its rider charged towards a Dwarf with hair as gold as the sun. A sinking feeling swam through his stomach when he realised that the Dwarf had his back turned.

"Watch out!" He cried, and before he really knew what he was doing, he'd gripped his small blade and lunged straight at the Warg. The blade made an uncomfortable squelching sound as it sunk through fur and flesh, and the returning howl was harrowed and had the hair on the back of Bilbo's neck rising. 

The Dwarf spun, but not fast enough as the rider let loose an arrow notched in its crudely made bow. The tip sliced through the Dwarf's forearm, and he grunted as he fell to a knee. Bilbo wrenched his blade free, spinning it in his hand once, before gripping it tight and thrusting it up into the rider.

The Orc fell with a heavy thud, screeching, and then it was quiet.

Bilbo pulled his blade free, eyes wide.

Hobbits didn't fight, but he supposed he was no ordinary Hobbit. 

"You saved me." The Dwarf says, staring up at him.

"Hardly." Bilbo replies, because unordinary or not, he was certainly not a saviour. "I just... killed something before you did, that's all."

It sounded stupid, even to his own ears, and he tried not to cringe too much.

The Dwarf let out a pained moan, clutching his arm, and Bilbo's attention was effectively diverted. He quickly moved to crouch beside the Dwarf, taking his arm in his hands.

"Let me see." Bilbo insists as the Dwarf flinches. He tears the Dwarf's tunic just a bit further, exposing the wound. His eyes scan the blood, before he frowns. "It's poisoned." 

Bilbo jumps as the rough sound of Dwarven words explodes behind him. He almost draws away from the golden-haired Dwarf as he is approached by a much larger, much broader Dwarf with knuckle dusters and tattoos. 

"He saved me!" The golden-haired Dwarf quickly says. "He's a friend." A side-glance is aimed at him. "Are you not?"

"I am." Bilbo quickly answers, nodding. "He's poisoned, from the arrow. I have an antidote, but the poison needs to be sucked out before it spreads through his bloodstream."

"I'll do it." A Dwarf with brown-hair and a delightfully youthful face steps forwards. Something about him is similar to the golden-haired one, but Bilbo had no time to dwell on it.

He quickly shucks his backpack off his shoulders, and withdraws a flask of water. He quickly cleans the wound of excess blood, and readies the salves and bandages he'd stocked up in.

Living as an adventurer, on the road, had gained him quite the fair bit of medical knowledge. 

"Make sure not to swallow anything." Bilbo advisers the younger Dwarf, who glances at him with determined eyes and a harsh nod. 

Bilbo watches critically as the Dwarf performs his duty, even as the injured one cringes and groans in pain. He waits for several moments, before deciding that the poison has been removed and nudges away the brown-haired Dwarf with a gentle hand.

He hands over his flask, entrusting that the Dwarf will wash out his mouth, before setting to applying the salve and tightly bandaging the wound to ensure pressure. 

"Better?" He asks the golden-haired Dwarf. He gets a nod and a small, heartbreakingly handsome smile that certainly makes his cheeks flush. 

A rustling sound startles him, and Bilbo swiftly turns, only to be met by the chest of an injured Orc that suddenly lunges at him.

He cries out as he's slammed to the ground, crushed under the weight of the creature. His head bounces off the dirt, and his vision spins, before completely going dark.

 

Waking up in such a foreign place is strange. He doesn't recognise the bed, but the mattress is soft and homely and all he wants to do is go to sleep again.

A hand touches his forehead, and he's faintly aware of voices becoming clearer around him.

"I don't know what he is." Someone murmurs. 

"He saved my life." A familiar voice says.

"Then he is welcome here." Another says.

Bilbo groans, blinking his eyes open. He's met by eager faces and a soft light, probably from a candle. He wonders if he's been brought into the famed Lonely Mountain.

"How are you feeling?" An older Dwarf asks. "Not sick? Dizzy?"

Bilbo shakes his head, pushing himself upright. "No, just got a headache."

"Well, that's to be expected." He replies. "Here, drink this, it'll soothe your head. Fetch me if anything changes." He passes a cup into Bilbo's hands, and gathers his things to leave. 

"Thank you, Oin." A Dwarf murmurs.

Bilbo sips at the cup. The liquid inside tasted relatively nice, and soothed his head within moments. 

"What are you?" The brown-haired Dwarf suddenly asks, peering forwards in curiosity.

Bilbo blinks at him. "I'm a Hobbit, of course!"

They didn't appear to know what that meant, but didn't question it further. Bilbo wasn't too offended - Hobbits weren't very sociable with other races, after all.

"Your name."

Bilbo glances at the Dwarf addressing him, and finds himself having to do a double take. The Dwarf is tall, with sharp features and eyes the colour of the sky right after a storm. He was dressed in absolute luxury, complete with a crown circling his brow.

_Royalty? Oh my..._

"Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He eventually says, eyes wide.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at yours." The Dwarf replies, eyeing him carefully. "These are my nephews, Kili and Fili."

 _So they are related._ Bilbo sort of expected something like that, but now that he knew for certain, he felt like it should have been obvious. 

"Thank you for helping me." Fili says, reaching for his hand. "It was a very brave thing to do."

"I hardly think it was brave." Bilbo answers, somewhat shocked. 

Fili offers him another easy smile.

"You're welcome to stay here, if you wish." Thorin tells him. "I cannot repay you enough for saving my heir."

Bilbo's eyes widen a little. Well, he hadn't expected that. "You need not repay me." He insists.

Thorin gives him a small smile. "It would be an honour."

 

Bilbo stayed in Erebor for quite some time. Kili and Fili loved leading him around, and he placated them, because their company was rather pleasant.

He didn't think of leaving, not once, until he was taking a stroll through the halls with the line of Durin and it was brought up.

Bilbo hummed, glancing away from the curious eyes that stared at him. He... didn't want to leave, but didn't know what else there was to do.

"I never asked you this, but why were you out in the forest?" Fili asks. "I do not know much of Hobbits."

"We adventure." Bilbo says quietly. "We wander until we find a place to settle. All Hobbits used to live in one community, but after the Fell Winter... well, now everyone is never in the same place for more than a few generations." 

"And you?" Thorin asks, reaching for Bilbo's hand. His grip was warm, and softer than Bilbo expected.

"I've always wandered." Bilbo says. 

"Where would you go?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo glances away again. "I do not know."

Kili slinks forward, presses against his side even as Bilbo flushes and tenses. "Don't you have a home, Mr Boggins?"

Bilbo shakes his head, fingers twitching in Thorin's grip. "No, there has been no place I've had the desire to stay."

"What about Erebor?" Fili suddenly asks, looking at him with determined eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. "You should stay here."

Bilbo stares at him, wavering. "Among the Dwarves...?"

"With us!" Kili protests, gripping his arm tightly.

Thorin draws him closer, even as a faint breeze wafts through the halls and ruffles the fur on his coat. "If it is what you wish, then you are welcome to stay." Thorin tells him quietly, and although his voice is calm, his eyes speak of a desperation Bilbo hasn't seen before. "For however long you wish to remain."

Bilbo closes his eyes against the breeze, allowing it to thread through his hair and brush against his cheeks. No other place had ever felt so much like _home._

"I'll stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by :3
> 
> Ahh, finally something longer~


	13. Existential Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is having an existential crisis. Sort of.

Bilbo worked in a library. It was a pretty boring place to work, and reading got a little tiring after a while, but it was a job to tide him over between his successful writing periods. 

He met a lot of people there, too. Kids and the elderly were always eager to talk, and the stressed high schoolers and college students became a lot friendlier after Bilbo routinely supplied them with snacks that were extremely cheap but rather tasty from the shopping mall across the street.

Bilbo also met other people, people like Thorin Oakenshield.

He came in often, mostly to make sure his cheeky nephews were actually getting work done, and to pick them up when they were so exhausted they all but begged for him to rescue them.

Sometimes he came in for himself, too. He liked to read, though Bilbo wasn't sure what kind of books they were - he was suspiciously distracted by Thorin's features every time he came to the reception desk.

It was still a bit of a shock, however, when Bilbo found Thorin lying on the floor of a back aisle. Well, he didn't quite find him so much as he tripped over him, but he wasn't too concerned with the minor details.

"Oh, hello Thorin." Bilbo said, sprawled on the floor, the books previously held in his arms spread across the ground. "What are you doing down here?"

Thorin makes a muffled noise, looking rather concerned with himself. "I lost my job." He says.

"Oh." Bilbo answers. "That's not too good."

Thorin groans. "It's not fair." He complains. "Why is the world against me, Bilbo?"

Bilbo hums contemplatively, rolling onto his back to follow Thorin's stare up to the ceiling. "Well, I'm not sure." He says. "Want to talk about it?"

 

Thorin did, and boy did he talk. Bilbo understood, because it was just one of those days. He talked about the ridiculous of his job (even though he was invited to work with his sister, and had taken her up on the offer) and how Kili was getting a little too rowdy for his teachers and how the shower head just _had_ to break during his shower that morning.

Still, when Dwalin came scrounging around for Thorin and found them lying on the ground crying about their respective problems...

Well, they never brought it up again.

Especially not at their lunch date the next week, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned


	14. An Addition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin thinks about young Bilbo.

Thorin's small company travelled from the Blue Mountains through a small place called the Shire on their way back to Erebor. 

He was concerned when he discovered that the small community had been ravaged by Wolves and Orcs. He didn't linger - it wasn't his place, nor did he believe Dwarves would be welcome. 

Still, when they came across a tiny, forgotten Hobbit babe, with no one to care for him, Thorin refused to leave the child to die.

Advice from Gandalf as they came across him in Bree helped them care for the child.

"His name is Bilbo." Gandalf had said. "Bilbo Baggins. I knew his parents... He is only a year old, Thorin. It's a very tender age for Hobbit Fauntlings. You must care for him studiously."

Of course, Thorin had been vaguely offended by the notion that he _wouldn't._ The child, Bilbo as he was called, seemed to have captured Thorin's interest with nothing more than a big-eyed stare.

Hobbit children were very different from Dwarven children. They ate much more, aged differently, and were sized much smaller in all aspects except for their feet. Bilbo particularly disliked the cold, Thorin found, often finding that the child liked to bury himself inside Thorin's coat, his nose pressed into the locks of his hair that fell in front of his shoulders.

The Dwarves, especially those from Erebor, where sceptical about Bilbo. 

Thorin all but dared anyone to protest to the Hobbit's presence, eyes sharp and shoulders tensed.

No one said a word.

Still, Thorin often got looks with Bilbo in his company.

Bilbo didn't like to sleep alone, and Thorin placated him. He couldn't bare seeing Bilbo's blotchy cheeks, and his whimpers tore at Thorin's heartstrings. He hated the fact that the child still had nightmares over something he wouldn't always remember.

He carried Bilbo in his arms, or in a sling across his chest or back, when he was too busy to stay with him until he fell asleep. Bilbo would clutch his hair, or his tunic, too frightened to let go, even to be passed into the arms of Dis or one of his nephews (who adored Bilbo like nothing else, Thorin was pleased to admit).

Sometimes, he just carried Bilbo around because the Fauntling was curious and took to Dwarven culture very well. Bilbo still shrunk from Dwalin's gaze, but when Dwalin was turned, Bilbo's eyes followed him with puzzlement, as though he were trying to figure something out.

He liked most of the other Dwarves, though. Thorin felt content to leave Bilbo in Balin's lap, or carefully pressed in Ori's shaky arms. Nori was always entertaining Bilbo with tricks, and Gloin was glad to expose his own son to other races. Bilbo and Bofur got a long remarkably well, especially with Bofur's toys and trinkets. 

Thorin was sure Bilbo would be fine among the Dwarves. He'd be there to make sure of it, because there was something undeniably gravitating about the child, about the innocent way he stared at things, about the gentleness of his hands and the way his smile stretched all the way up to his eyes.

Thorin would make sure Bilbo was happy.


	15. Faring Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you sure you're faring well, my friend?"

"He was... he was my..."

He couldn't say it. Bilbo couldn't say it, the words got choked and full in his throat.

Balin looked at him with eyes that begged to understand, but he didn't protest when Bilbo pushed on. He held Bilbo's saddle, tied a small packaged to it.

Then he let him go, and Bilbo left.

 

"Are you sure you're faring well, my friend?" Gandalf asked, glancing down at Bilbo with knowing eyes and a concerned expression.

"Of course I am." Bilbo replied, as though the thought of being anything other than that had not yet occurred to him. "I would like to be reacquainted with Bag End, if I'm being honest."

Gandalf hummed contemplatively.

After a few more words, they parted ways, and again, Bilbo left the company of someone he'd spent far too long with. 

 

His home was in a complete disarray, and he didn't feel anything.

It took a month to get all his possessions back - every single piece, back where it had been, right down to the last silver spoon. 

It was a welcome distraction, until there was nothing more to do.

 

Eventually he found the package, hidden away amongst his travelling possessions that hadn't moved from where he'd left them at the door. He didn't recognise it, and it took a week before he was willing to open it.

He was careful, and slow, pulling away the layers of paper and twine until he found what was hidden inside.

It was blue, and big, with faint dirt stains and the scent of someone strong and brace and determined. 

He shakily brought it to his mouth, and the fur that lined it ticked his nose but he still found himself muffling sobs and tears that hadn't come before that day into the coat as though it did something to quieten them. 

And once it had started, it wouldn't stop. He trembled and hiccupped and felt his heart and throat squeeze with anguish as he clutched Thorin's coat tightly. Bilbo tried to remember the good, because he'd already buried the acorn, and this was as close as he'd ever get to his brave, handsome Dwarf ever again. Bilbo tried to remember his voice, the colour of his eyes, the way his hand was roughened by work but delicate as it clutched his own. 

But all he could remember was that he'd never see him again.


	16. Marker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo takes advantage of Thorin's sleeping face.

Bilbo had been friends with Thorin for a long time. He wasn't sure when they went from passive-aggressively disliking each other to being all but in each other's pockets, but he wasn't one to complain.

So when Thorin begged to come over to escape his house for one reason or another, Bilbo didn't really question him before opening his doors invitingly.

"Thanks for having me, Bilbo." Thorin sighs, heaving his overnight bag onto Bilbo's bed.

"It's fine." Bilbo says, shrugging as he offers Thorin a lazy smile. "I ordered pizza."

"Meat lovers?"

"Of course."

Thorin grins.

Bilbo rolls his eyes, and turns to lead Thorin back to the lounge room. Thorin didn't really like vegetables, and Bilbo had known him long enough to know that he ate anything with meat on it. Bilbo wasn't as fussy, but preferred to eat a balance of meat and vegetables.

"Want to watch a movie?" Bilbo asks.

"Sure." Thorin says.

"Go get plates and drinks, then." Bilbo says. "I'll put something on."

 

Bellies full and eyes-dropping from the movie, Bilbo was unsurprised to find Thorin falling asleep, slumped across his shoulder. 

He spent quite a while just staring, admiring the slope of Thorin's nose and the way he seemed stern even when sleeping. His eyelashes were long and dark, his cheekbones strong, his lips slightly parted and soft...

He really was handsome, Bilbo thought.

Perfect for drawing on.

To be honest, he went easy on Thorin. A few stars along his temples, some kitten whispers across his cheeks, an acorn on his nose... maybe even _"Bilbo Owns This"_ across the forehead.

Simple, honestly. It'd wash off well enough.

After he'd capped the pen, he subtly shifted them around until they were lying on the couch, and he fell asleep.

 

"Bilbo it's _not coming off!"_

Bilbo didn't know whether to fall to the floor laughing or whether to feel a little guilty about what he'd done. He settled on muffling his laughter, bent across the kitchen table as he listened to Thorin rant and yell at him from the bathroom.

"I can't go home with this on my face!" Thorin cries, coming out of the bathroom with wet hair and scrubbed-red cheeks. "Bilbo, stop laughing and help me! This is your fault!"

Bilbo couldn't help it, he burst into a fit of giggles that had Thorin scowling at him furiously.

"You look adorable!" He huffs out between laughter, eyes wet.

Thorin glowers, storming back to the bathroom. Bilbo can hear the water taps being aggressively turned on. 

"I'm sorry, Thorin!" He says, sliding off the kitchen stool to wander towards the bathroom. "It should be washing off easy."

"Well it's not." Thorin snorts from behind the bathroom door.

"Are you using soap?" Bilbo asks. "Thorin?"

"Dammit, Bilbo."

Bilbo desperately tried to hide his laughter, even covering his mouth with both his hands, but the effect was completely lost as he fell against the door, shaking with more giggles.

"Shut up, Bilbo!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by DrBDamned / DoctorBDamned


	17. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is worried that Thorin's nephews won't accept him as part of their family.

Bilbo was a little worried.

He'd been dating Thorin for two years, officially, but they'd been friends (of sorts) for quite a few years more than that. Thorin was someone who not many people got along with - he had a personality to rival all others, but Bilbo felt comfortable around him. Thorin never made him feel quiet or subservient. 

But that wasn't what Bilbo was worried about. Thorin was the perfect partner, even if they did have their disagreements every now and then.

Bilbo was more worried about Thorin's nephews.

Fili and Kili were beautiful little kids. Cheeky, but pure of heart. 

He didn't know if they'd like him. He wasn't bad with children - he was the primary custodian of his own nephew, Frodo - but Fili and Kili were very... opinionated.

When it finally came time to be introduced as a possible life partner to Thorin, Bilbo was very concerned. 

He supposed he didn't have much to worry about, in the end. He sat down with the boys without Thorin, and all they did was ask questions and questions and questions - only the first few were vague threats, of course. The rest were about what he'd be like as a parent.

"Would we have to do our homework still?"

"Do I have to eat all the vegetables?"

"Uncle Thorin doesn't let us watch scary movies! Can we?"

"Can we call you Uncle Bilbo, then?"

Bilbo was very choked up, at that last one. He didn't expect the two to be so receptive to him, but they were delighted at the thought of their family expanding.

Even if it meant doing homework, eating vegetables and avoiding scary movies.

Thorin had been relieved, too, when Bilbo told him what had happened.

Now there was only one more problem to solve.

"You have to talk to Frodo, too, you know."

"Oh no, what if he _hates me?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by THE_PurpleShirt
> 
> A little short, but I hope you like it anyway!


	18. The Pianist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were all lost.

The music carried well throughout the performance hall.

A single piano, alone on the stage like the last standing tree in a ravaged forest lay witness to the crowd of faceless people who came and went as freely and frequently as night and day. It's player, a man of short statue and curly hair, seemed unaware that he was being watched. Only his smart dress and careful fingers alluded the crowd to his awareness of them - if not for that, he seemed to be entirely in a world all of his own.

The music was just as careful as his fingers - each press of a key sounded extremely deliberate, carefully mapped out, but as soon as one was able to separate themselves from their conscious mind the notes all blended together into a staccato of forced emotion and a sense of weightlessness. If one could only stop focusing on each note, then they formed something _more,_ something riveting and addicting and all the things anyone could ever yearn for.

They way he played made Thorin feel as though the pianist himself was lost - that the piano was playing _him_ and not the other way around. 

The music was beautiful, in a word. The pianist played to his heart's content, but the song was mournful, even if it was the most beautiful thing Thorin had heard. The pianist played with a sense of guilt - like if the audience listened to it in the wrong way, thought of it in the wrong way, even remembered the soft notes the _wrong_ way, then they would surely be filled with a sense of guilt at being unable to fully comprehend its beauty.

It was so many things at once, and Thorin was sometimes just as lost as the pianist.

They were all lost.

Lost in their thoughts, in their dreams, in the music. It made them, the audience, feel like that - that even though they knew nothing about one another, that the person in the slightly worn suit next to him could be his brother, and the woman sitting in the front row with a string of lustrous pearls around her neck could be his closest childhood friend. 

When the music played, the audience went from being singular, stand-alone beings to a group with everything and nothing in common - they were bound by the notes of the piano, caught up in the whims and desires of the pianist.

And if he chose to play something sadder, something with deeper, reverberating notes that lingered in the air for a little while longer than expected, then they would become sad too.

Thorin would never become used to this music - it's charm, it's exuberance and it's ability to sweep him away from his thoughts as though he were becoming a completely new person would never lessen. 

And when it was over, when people broke out of the haze spun around them by the single pianist on the too-large stage to become individual beings again, Thorin lingered. He waited in the wings, standing tall, waiting for the pianist to gather his sheets and his wits before he wandered off the stage all by himself.

And then he'd envelope the pianist in his arms, whisper _"What an adventure..."_ into his curly hair, and lead him out into the night just as he always did, and always would.


	19. Aversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is amused by Bilbo's aversion to Dwalin.

Thorin found that caring for a Hobbit child was not as difficult as he thought it would have been.

His sister had been the one to bring the baby to the Lonely Mountain. She told him that Bilbo's parents had been killed in an Orc raid on a small, innocent village, and that he had no relatives to care for him. She hadn't wanted to leave the child to die out in the frigid weather, and Thorin had agreed that her actions had been noble and right.

Nevertheless, Bilbo had been a bit of a handful. Most of all, Thorin had had to factor Bilbo's diet into his day (because it felt wrong for anyone but the royal family to care for him - besides the fact that everyone found Bilbo to be quite endearing, Thorin thought that maybe the Hobbit was most comfortable with Dis and her children). 

With Dis constantly moving between the Blue Mountains, Erebor and various other great Dwarven Citadels, Bilbo's care more often than not fell into Thorin's hands.

He quite enjoyed carrying Bilbo around Erebor, if he were being honest. Bilbo's energetic personality was quite infectious, and Thorin admired his abundant curiosity. After an initial few months of adjusting, Bilbo had become quite receptive to Dwarven culture.

He still didn't like Dwalin, though.

It was something that endlessly amused Thorin.

 

"Want to go bother Bombur?" Thorin asked, peering back at the child that clung to his neck.

Bilbo gave him a cheeky grin, full of teeth and dimples. "Yeah!" He said, chubby fingers tightening their hold on thick strands of Thorin's hair.

Thorin chuckled, hefting Bilbo a little higher. His arms were circled around Bilbo, keeping him firmly attached to Thorin's back, feet dangling childishly. 

Bilbo had quickly taken to most of the Dwarves, Bombur included. Considering he ate up to seven times a day, it was no wonder he grew close with the cook. 

As they drew closer to the dining hall, voices began to echo down the corridor. Thorin payed no mind to it - it was something he was accustomed to. 

Bilbo, however, made a little huffing noise and drew closer to Thorin's neck.

Thorin shot him a puzzled look, but he soon understood as he spotted Dwalin amongst the Dwarves sitting at the table.

He almost laughed at the way Bilbo shrunk into his shoulders, hiding his face in Thorin's hair. Thorin wasn't sure what it was about the warrior, but Bilbo seemed to nervous to approach him like he would with any other Dwarf.

Dwalin looked faintly insulted - he just couldn't figure out what Bilbo's aversion to him was about, either. 

Thorin had a feeling the problem with Bilbo and Dwalin would resolve itself eventually.

 

He turned out to be correct, when one day he couldn't find Bilbo where he usually would be waiting for Thorin to come collect him.

Thorin wasn't too concerned - Bilbo knew his way around Erebor exceptionally well, for his age - but it was still strange. 

Eventually, he came across Bilbo, except Bilbo wasn't alone.

It was along the ramparts that Thorin found him. He heard Bilbo before he saw him - energetic voice carrying well above the wind in a staccato of questions that made Thorin's head spin.

Dwalin's voice replying had him reluctant to walk across the ramparts. Instead, he hid behind a beam, peering around to see what exactly was happening.

Dwalin was seated against the wall, looking down on Bilbo, who held one of Dwalin's knees in both hands to be able to stand on his toes. Bilbo was asking questions, still looking a little hesitant, but more and more enthusiastic at every reply from the warrior.

Again, Thorin had the urge to laugh. 

Bilbo was a spirited kid, with a cute face and an endearing personality - how could anyone ever try to deny him anything?

Dwalin certainly couldn't, it seemed. 

But then again neither could Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by mtpelionbliss and Janet4~
> 
> (kinda... eh)


	20. A Light Out In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is a wanderer.

Wandering was something Hobbit's just _did._

The New Age had been unkind to them - their physicality, once an advantage, now singled them out as different and odd and _bad._

Still, some things remained the same. Hobbits still wandered, avoiding the areas clouded with technology dust and the buzz of overpopulated streets. The effects of technology and metals like iron and steel were unfriendly to Hobbits, and to other creatures that have withstood the test of time.

Still, even when avoiding the decrepit creations of Men, Hobbits like Bilbo still sometimes wandered where they should not.

Like the Lonely Forest, for example, which was very misleading, as it was not a forest at all. Rather, it was a series of interlocking caves and passageways that led both under the ground and through mountains controlled and populated by Dwarves.

Bilbo had never come across one, before. It was no surprise - he'd travelled over from the Shire, where Forests such as these were not so common, lest one travel in the opposite direction from the Shire itself towards the Blue Mountains.

Still, Bilbo found himself lost in the dark tunnels, his way lighted only by the glowing crystals that formed shapes along the tunnel walls. He ached to see the grass and the sky again, and if he were not so uncomfortable in such a foreign area, he thought he might have liked the caves quite a bit.

Realistically, he expected to come across Dwarves at some point. It was their territory, after all. He just didn't expect the Dwarf that found him to be the King Under the Mountain.

His name was Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo was aware of who he was - as a wanderer, he often heard tales of significant people, and he'd recognise the fierce gaze so often whispered around fires on any Dwarf.

"I'm lost." He said, because it was the only explanation needed. 

"So you are." Thorin answered. In his hand, he held a lantern, filled with a pale blue and white light Bilbo had never seen before. "This way."

Bilbo eagerly followed. Hobbits were not meant to be curious, or adventurous, but Bilbo certainly was. It was why he wandered - why he'd never settled down, unlike other Hobbits his age. No where had been interesting enough for him to consider staying.

"There are so many lights." Bilbo says, eyeing the crystals in the wall and the lantern in Thorin's hand. Even the beautifully crafted circlet around his forward seemed to glow, reflecting the lights from the walls spectacularly.

Thorin seemed amused by his curiosity. "The crystals were affected by the harnessing of electricity a few centuries ago. Now the crystals we harvest shine."

"Do they always?" Bilbo asks, staring up at Thorin with wide-eyes.

Thorin nods. "Yes, but we found that if they are taken outside of the Mountain then they revert back to normal jewels. We harvest some for lighting purposes, and others for trading and crafting. It's a good balance."

Bilbo nods. He feels as though his heart would overheat itself any moment with the way it was racing. He hadn't felt so intrigued since he stumbled upon the Elf Citadel some years ago.

"They're marvellous." Bilbo declares. "Like nothing I've ever seen before."

"And you've seen a lot?" Thorin raises an inquisitive brow down at him, looking more amused by the minute.

"Of course." Bilbo answers. "I've seen many things. Even the cities of Men."

Thorin laughed. "And did you like these cities of Men?"

"Not at all, they were atrocious." Bilbo wrinkles his nose. "The technology dust covered everything, and the fog of vehicles and electricity was unbreathable. Honestly, I don't understand how Men can stand it."

"They don't sense it." Thorin says. "They revere their inventions - they strive for more. It's the way of Men."

"Precisely why I did not enjoy it." Bilbo says. "I am not a human."

Thorin snorts. "No, you are not." He says. "Not Man, not Dwarf, not Elf..." He lifts a hand, running his fingers over the pointed tip of Bilbo's ear. "If not them, then what sort of creature are you?"

Bilbo shivered, face turning red at the sensation that shot down his spine. Ears, especially Hobbit ears, were extremely sensitive. 

Thorin seemed perfectly pleased with his reaction, if his darkened eyes were anything to go by. "Well, my mysterious friend? What are you?"

Bilbo tried not to flush. He knew Dwarves were open with affections - but only with those that held their attention, which was something notoriously difficult to do. He felt rather special to have caught Thorin's eye - it made his heart jump even faster. 

"Well, I'm a Hobbit!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO before I forget, yesterday was day 200! Thank you so much for sticking with me this long, everything you do for me is really encouraging >v


	21. Hello Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo accidentally knocks Thorin over.

Thorin felt ready to strangle someone. Maybe Dwalin - he could take it, his shoulders were impossibly somehow wider than Thorin's (he would only begrudgingly admit it after they measured). 

Still, all he wanted was to be back in his dorm with his nice, soft bed and his coffee machine. 

He did _not_ want to be knocked over by some guy who was rushing too fast for his little legs to possibly keep up. Of course, that's exactly what happened, and to top it off a nasty graze down the side of his arm started to bleed all over the pavement.

"What the hell?" He growled, pushing the thick workbooks and paper-clipped stacks of papers that had fallen across his lap to the ground.

"I-I'm so sorry!" The guy cries, and Thorin is startled by the shakiness of his voice. "I didn't see where I was going!"

Thorin glances up, and is met with the heat-wrenchingly apologetic face of a student he had only seen in passing. Bright eyes framed by thick black glasses that oddly suited his face, curls the colour of honey and thin but curved lips that were open in worry stared at him frightfully. 

"It's fine." He finally answers gruffly, trying not to frown. The guy was pretty cute, okay. He looked like he was going to cry. 

"You're bleeding!" He protests, riffling through his bag to pull out several band aids. "I'm really sorry, I'm just in a bit of a rush and I really should have put my bags in my books- ah, I mean my books in my bag." His face turns deliciously red deliciously fast, and Thorin can't help but feel rather intrigued with the small man sticking brightly coloured band aids to his arm. 

"I'm Thorin." He finally says, sticking out his good hand.

"Bilbo." The man answers, tentatively reaching out to shake Thorin's hand. "Sorry, again. I didn't mean to knock you over."

"It's fine." Thorin answers. "Why are you in a rush?"

"Oh my god my class started two minutes ago!" Bilbo cries, lurching to his feet suddenly. "Can I talk to you later? I-I mean, if you want!"

Thorin laughs, amused by Bilbo's flushed cheeks and the nervous way he looks up at Thorin as he stands. "Sure, that's fine. I'm in the Eastern dorm, just come find me."

Bilbo nods, smiling. "Okay."

"Oh, and Bilbo?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Why do you have Hello Kitty band aids?"


	22. Fraught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin lies asleep after the Battle of the Five Armies, and Bilbo worries.

_"The Eagles are coming! Look, Thorin, the eagles are coming!"_

Bilbo flinched into wakefulness, grasping the bed sheets tightly in his fists. A dreadful sense of nausea flooded from his stomach to his throat, but he forced it back. 

_"Please, please don't leave us...!"_

He pushed himself upright, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. He hadn't slept well in a while. 

Pushing the covers back, he stumbled out of bed and went through the motions of getting dressed and prepared for the day. He figured he was awake well before the Dwarves of Erebor, which was becoming a bad habit of his. He rose before the chefs, and went to bed before the children. He didn't think it was a healthy pattern, but he couldn't help it. 

Dis would be arriving today. Bilbo would be required to receive her, with Dwalin and Balin. 

Bilbo didn't want to be the one to tell her that her sons and brother still remained unconscious after the Battle of the Five Armies. He hardly liked to think of it himself, and he didn't want his first meeting with such an important person to be so saddened.

The kitchens were cold and empty, like he expected. He spent a moment lighting several lamps, before cooking up a small breakfast for himself. He ate it at the kitchen table, instead of the dining room, trying to stomach the food (he hadn't been so successful the day previous).

He hadn't expected anyone to join him, but when Balin came in through the doors, he was a little relieved that the silence wouldn't be quite as heavy anymore.

"How are you feeling, lad?" Balin asks. "Not still sick, are you?"

Bilbo offered him a waning smile, pressing a hand to his stomach. "Feeling queasy." He says. "I think I'll be alright."

Balin hummed, peering at him contemplatively. "Maybe you should visit Oin."

Bilbo nodded. "Probably for the best."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

Bilbo bulked at the question, flushing guiltily. "Ah, well..."

Balin sighs, reaching over to pat his hand comfortingly. "Will you visit Thorin today? I'm sure Dwalin and I can handle Dis."

"But I should-"

"It's alright, lad." Balin says. "You just take it easy, alright? You've done more than we can ever repay you for."

Bilbo didn't think he could ever do enough. 

Still, he placidly nodded and bid Balin a goodbye.

The corridors were cold, but he hardly felt it. The trip to Thorin's resting room always made his feet feel heavier than they were. Although the sight of Thorin lying prone and weak on his bed made Bilbo's heart lurch, it hurt more to be away from him.

The room was empty, aside from Thorin. A chair was pushed up against the edge of the bed, remaining where Bilbo had left it the previous evening. It looked lonely.

Felt lonely, too, when Bilbo took a seat.

"Good morning, Thorin." He says, gingerly reaching forwards to lift Thorin's hand into his own. "I hope you weren't too cold last night." 

He didn't know what to say, other than pointless trivialities and half hearted questions that he once took advantage of saying. 

He didn't know how long he sat there, watching Thorin's face. Eventually, he crawled into the space beside Thorin, carefully lying down so not as to disturb him.

He fell asleep, as well, though he didn't realise he had. 

 

His stomach woke him up. 

Feeling ill, he checked on Thorin quickly before making his way to the bathroom. He thought he might throw up, but nothing came, and so he made his way back to the kitchen feeling worse off than he'd first been. 

Balin was in there, staring into a cup of tea. He looked up at Bilbo's entrance, nodding in greeting.

Bilbo made too, tea, and sat across from him. "How did the meeting go?"

"Well." Balin said. "As well as can be." He pauses for a moment, and sips his tea. "Fili has awoken."

Bilbo glanced up, eyes wide. "Is he alright?"

Balin nods. "He will live."

Bilbo sagged against the table, clutching his tea tightly. "That's good." He whispers. "That's good."

Balin eyes him. "Have you visited Oin yet?"

Bilbo shakes his head. "No, I haven't found the time..."

The old Dwarf sighs. "Why don't you go see him now? He should be finished with Fili."

He offered a tight smile. "Alright." He lies, standing.

He already knew what his problem was, and there wasn't a way to fix it.

 

He found himself back in Thorin's room that night.

He had a book clutched in his hands, reading by candlelight and the light of the roaring fire. Thorin was no better, but no worse. It hurt to see him like that.

He fell asleep, slumped against the bed, and woke to a gentle hand touching his shoulder.

The Dwarf that greeted him was someone he'd never seen before. Eyes a startlingly dark blue and dark hair pulled into the neatest braids Bilbo had seen in a while started down at him, soft and familiar and decidedly homely.

Bilbo started at her questioningly. He didn't think he'd ever seen a female Dwarf before.

He sat up a little straighter at that. 

"You must be Bilbo Baggins." She says, offering a strong, yet feminine hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Y-you too." Bilbo places his hand in hers, allows it to be shook. "You must be Dis...?"

She nods, and takes a seat beside him. "I've heard many tales about you." She says. "About your actions on my brother's quest."

"I hardly did anything." Bilbo tells her. "But make it a little more difficult for them all."

She laughs quietly. "That is not what I've been told. Fili spoke at great lengths about your bravery when the company was cornered by Wargs and Orcs, and how you vouched for my brother in Lake-Town. I think you've done more for him that you realise."

Bilbo turns his gaze back to Thorin, rubbing his stomach absently. "I wish I could of done more." 

Dis reaches for his hand. "You were close with Thorin, were you not?"

"I... I was." Bilbo answers cautiously.

She's silent for a moment. "I didn't know male Hobbits could carry."

Bilbo jumps, staring at her.

She shrugs. "Balin told me you've been feeling unwell. I've had two children of my own... I can sense these sorts of things. Did... did Thorin know?"

Bilbo bites his lip, and ducks his head. He shakes it.

Dis squeezes his hand tightly, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "Do not worry, my brother is strong, and determined. He would not leave behind someone he had become so close to. He'll put through, I just know it."

He had to believe her.


	23. Fraught Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's condition worsens.

_"Please... please don't leave us, Thorin..."_

Bilbo scrunched his eyes tightly, pushing his knuckles into them. He was tired, and hungry, but he felt too sick in the stomach to eat or sleep. 

It'd been two weeks since Dis arrived. That meant it had been three and a half months since he conceived - the appropriate time to be showing for a Hobbit, he thought. He'd first noticed the size increase a few weeks prior, however, but he thought it might have been because his child would be Dwarven.

He hadn't known Hobbits and Dwarves were compatible in that sense. He didn't know what features the child would have - pointed ears? Hairless feet? 

It was frightening, and just another reason why he couldn't comfortingly sleep at night. 

Dis visited him regularly. She couldn't understand why he didn't wish to visit Oin, or to announce his pregnancy. He didn't know how to explain his feelings about the subject.

It didn't feel right, to have everyone know before Thorin.

He didn't even know how he'd tell him. 

Dis was helping him, slowly. She taught him ways to ease the sickness, and what foods would help nurture the child he carried if they so happened to be more Dwarven that Hobbit. Bilbo wasn't fond of some of the foods, but he made an effort to eat them regularly.

Fili recuperated well, too. He was elated to see his mother again, but Bilbo knew he feared for his brother and his uncle, who remained unresponsive.

_But alive._

He had to keep telling himself that.

Bilbo considered telling Fili about his condition. It took a lot of convincing on his own part, and Dis offered a lot of support when he mentioned it to her. Eventually he decided that telling Fili might ease the burden off his shoulders, even if just a little. 

He just didn't know how to say it.

He had a book in his hands, as he often did, when be brought something small for Fili to eat in bed. Fili seemed pleased to have something sweet to eat.

"Are you well, Bilbo?" Fili asks. "You look a little pale."

"I've been... _sick_ for a little while." Bilbo says carefully, keeping his eyes firmly glued to the pages of the book he was no longer reading. 

"Have you seen Oin?" Fili frowns, concerned.

Bilbo shakes his head, gently closing the book. "No... No, but I have been consulting your mother." He says.

"Why?"

"She has... she has experience in this field." He says. "Whereas I don't, exactly."

Fili stares at him, brows furrowed. "I don't understand."

Bilbo gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Male Hobbits can carry." He says.

Fili stares harder, eyebrows raising in surprise. "You mean...?"

He nods, silence, clutching the book tightly. 

Fili leans back, glancing him over. "Is it Thorin's?"

Bilbo gives him a withering look, but nods. He supposes it's something to consider, at least for Fili, but there was no doubt in his mind who's child it was.

He reaches forwards to cover his hand gently. "Are you well?" Fili asks, eyes serious.

Bilbo is startled by the intensity in his gaze, but the gentleness of it gives him a small sense of relief. "Well as can be." He finally says. "I just... I just..."

Fili squeezes his hand, and leans back again. "I'll assumed Thorin doesn't know." He starts. "Does anyone else?"

"Just Dis." Bilbo admits quietly. 

The Dwarf nods. "I think you should inform Oin." He says. "The child will be of royal blood, so he will be best to take care of you and them."

Bilbo nods, feeling teary. He hadn't considered that. The child would be royal - first in line for the throne, if of age before Thorin succeeds. He didn't know if he wanted his child to have to go through that, not when Fili would be so better suited.

"Don't think of that now." Fili says, as though he could read Bilbo's mind. "Just focus on being healthy, alright Bilbo? We'll sought this out, all of us. Everything will be okay."

His words were oddly soothing.

 

Bilbo decided to visit Oin a week later, when he could finally muster the courage to. It was at Fili's gentle insistence, mostly, but he knew it would be for the best, especially since he'd noticed a trend of rapid growth starting to occur.

He didn't expect it, but then again, Dwarven children were bigger than Hobbit Fauntlings. 

Oin was in disbelief, when he first told him. 

When he could muster his wits, he was very concerned for Bilbo's health. He prescribed several medicines, including a salve for his skin, and instructed him to alter his diet a little bit further. 

He was glad Oin promised not to speak of his pregnancy to anyone else, after being told that both Fili and Dis were aware of it.

 

Kili woke up a few days after Bilbo visited Oin. He was groggy, and it took a few hours for him to remember what happened, but he would be alright.

A bit scarred up, and bedridden for another fortnight, but alright.

Bilbo hoped Thorin would wake up soon, too, but he was still unresponsive.

Visiting him was becoming a more frequent event. Bilbo found it harder and harder to leave his side at night, even though he knew it would be for the best that he not wither away at Thorin's bedside. He had more than just himself to think about, after all.

But the morning he woke up to find he most definitely was noticeably showing, he felt as though he would break. 

Thorin should of been there, should of been the first one to find out and to see the developments of his own child. As Bilbo stood in the mirror, vainly admiring the bump, he felt expectantly upset.

He dressed carefully that morning, making sure to wear something that used to be just a little bit too big, and skipped breakfast to instead go straight to Thorin's side.

Like the month's previous, Thorin was unconscious, and unresponsive. 

It hurt, much more than it usually did.

"I don't know how to tell you." Bilbo says, eyes downcast as he sits on the edge of Thorin's bed. "Don't know how to tell anyone, really."

The silence was deafening. 

"It's starting to show." He says. In a moment of weakness, he lifts Thorin's hand and gingerly presses it to his stomach. "Feel's weird, huh?"

He grips Thorin's hand tightly, fingers trembling. He didn't want to cry, but he could feel the tears building, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold them back, not this time.

His cries were helplessly muffled, and he felt a pounding in his head beginning. It was so thought-consuming that he didn't even notice the Durin's approaching the room. 

"Bilbo!" Fili shouted, instantly rushing to his side. "What happened?"

Bilbo shook, dropping Thorin's hand as he clutched his arms.

Fili gripped his hands tightly, eyes checking him over as his lips turned down in worry. "Bilbo?"

"I can't..." He hiccups, dropping his head. 

Dis reaches for him, pulling him to his feet with a strength he didn't know she had. "Come with me." She says. "You need rest. Fili, explain it to your brother, and fetch Oin to check on Thorin again."

She led him back to his room firmly, without any room for argument, and when there instructed him to change into loose clothing and get into the bed.

He did as he was told, thankful for the directions, and burrowed under the covers to collect himself. 

Dis returned with tea and slices of apple. "Have something to eat, when you're ready." She says, as she slips onto the bed to lie on top of the covers beside him. "You mustn't work yourself up like this, it's bad for both you and the child. You have to have faith in him, Bilbo. He will not leave you, not like this."

He tightens the covers around himself, and only flinches for a moment when she slings an arm across him, above the covers. 

Even though her words were tough, he felt comforted by them.

 

Kili spent a lot of time around him, after he woke and managed to convince everyone he could leave his bed. Bilbo didn't much leave his own, at all, not even to visit Thorin.

The Dwarven prince was very intrigued by the pregnancy. He'd never been around someone carrying a child, and his curiosity was oddly enlightening. He was fascinated by the growing bump on Bilbo's stomach, and was even thinking of names to suggest. It was endearing.

It wasn't surprising, then, that Kili was the one keeping him company as he rested when Fili burst into the room with news he'd been desperate to hear. 

"He's awake."

 

"Bilbo, you have to take it easy!" Kili protests, even as Bilbo struggles to get out of bed without feeling dizzy. He'd been sick and weak for at least a fortnight, and was having difficulties consuming anything, even tea.

"Kili, please." He begged, gripping Kili's arm tightly even as his eyes swam with unshed tears. _"Please."_

Kili stares at him, eyes wavering, but he eventually concedes. "Alright, let me help you."

Bilbo grips his arm tighter, unfolding from his position. His stomach was bigger, now, and more noticeable. He had to abandon his waistcoat, and just wore a loose shirt with his suspenders. Anyone who looked too closely would surely notice.

Kili kept a tight hold on him as they slowly made their way towards Thorin's room. Bilbo was sure only Dis, Fili and Oin, maybe Dwalin, would be there, and he didn't care about them knowing.

He just wanted to see Thorin _alive._

Bilbo's heart was too loud in his chest, and it only got louder as they got closer to the room.

Peering in, Bilbo felt as though his knees would collapse, because Thorin was sitting up, eyes open.

"Thorin." He whispered, trembling.

Kili kept a firm grip on him, brown eyes full of worry, but he helped Bilbo further into the room nevertheless. 

Thorin's eyes caught his immediately, and he sat up straight. "Bilbo."

Bilbo stumbled forwards, even when Kili reached for him. He hardly noticed Dis shuffling her sons from the room, because he was too preoccupied with being pulled into Thorin's arms.

He was crying, uncontrollably, even as Thorin soothed him. 

_He's alive._

Bilbo pressed closer, even as it put an uncomfortable pressure on his stomach. He could bare it. 

Thorin, however, seemed startled, and drew away for a moment. "Bilbo, your stomach..."

Bilbo couldn't meet his eyes, and kept his head dipped, even as tears fell down his cheeks. "I'm sorry." He croaks.

Thorin reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it out from his pants and above the bulge of his stomach. He stares, hard and wide-eyed, even as he presses a large, warm hand to Bilbo's skin.

"You're..." Thorin starts, voice choked. "And I've been..."

Bilbo sniffles, wiping his eyes. 

Thorin pulls him closer, across his lap, regardless of his injuries. He keeps a firm hand on Bilbo's stomach, uses the other one to cup the back of his head, press their foreheads together. 

This time, the silence doesn't feel so deafening.

"How far along are you?" Thorin asks. "Are you well?"

"Four and a half months, I think." Bilbo says quickly. "The gestation period for Hobbits is usually only eight or nine months, but for Dwarves it is eleven... I don't know if the child takes after you or me, more, but they're larger than expected."

Thorin sighs. "Are you well?" He repeats quietly.

Bilbo bites his lip. "Sort of." He says. "Better, now."

Thorin strokes his hair gently. "Who... who else knows?"

"Dis knew as soon as she saw me." He laughs weakly. "Fili, and Kili. Oin as well. I... I didn't want to tell anyone. It didn't feel right."

"It's okay." Thorin soothes. "I am glad you are well, Bilbo. I... I don't know what I would have done, if you had..."

Bilbo reaches for his hand, sighing deeply. "I'm glad you're awake."

"I'm so sorry, Bilbo." Thorin whispers. "What I've put you through, for so long... How could you ever forgive me?"

"I wouldn't have, if you didn't wake up." Bilbo chastises lightly. "There's nothing to forgive, now."

Thorin rubs his stomach, pulling him down to lay cradled in his arms. "Are you sure you're well?"

Bilbo nods, resting a hand on Thorin's chest, carefully placed above the bandages. "Tired." He whispers.

Thorin nuzzles his hair comfortingly, pulling him a little closer. "Rest, if you wish."

Bilbo clutched him a little tighter. He didn't want to wake up and find this had all been but a cruel dream.

"I'll be here." Thorin says. "I promise, Bilbo, I won't ever leave you again, not even for an hour."

Bilbo nods several times, feeling the tension slowly drain from his shoulders. 

He closes his eyes, and falls asleep to the gentle way Thorin's fingers map out the shape of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took... So long... *wheezes*
> 
> Wasn't planning on doing a sequel, but a lot of people suggested it, so here you go!
> 
> Also, happy birthing THE_PurpleShirt! Thank you for always supporting me~ <3
> 
> I will be writing something special for you tomorrow! I would of done it today, but it felt cruel to leave yesterday's as it was... ahaha...
> 
> Either way, I hope you have a nice day! *\^w^/*


	24. Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo thinks on how Thorin interacts with their nephews.

Bilbo thought that Thorin's relationship with his nephews was intriguing. He didn't know why, but watching them always left him feeling light-hearted and at ease. It was a sense of comfort he hadn't felt in quite a long time.

Kili was still young, in Dwarven years. He still craved the childish comforts and words of both guidance and praise that Thorin sometimes withheld from him. 

When he didn't however, Kili's youth was evident.

Bilbo noticed that Thorin often pressed their foreheads together. He assumed that it meant something significant in Dwarven cultures, but he also thought it was something reserved for youths, as he never saw Thorin do it with his other nephew. Kili's smile, and energy, was always sky rocketing after that, and Bilbo thought that maybe he still ached for a sort of fatherly approval that Thorin was readily providing for him. 

Fili, on the other hand, had much different needs.

Bilbo knew that he struggled with the idea of ruling, especially considering his personality was so different from Thorin's. He was apt for the job, and would certainly make a firm leader, but he struggled with the concept of following in Thorin's footsteps, of not having Thorin there to tell him what to do, to guide him.

But Thorin was always very direct with Fili, and always watched out for him, turning him in the right direction rather than nudging him. He gave all the relevant knowledge to Fili straight and simple, and didn't sugar coat anything - but he was somehow effortlessly gentle with Fili, curving him rather than bending him, ensuring that he was as calm and collected as possible. Fili was always reassured by Thorin, even if Thorin were chastising him or correcting him. 

It was sweet to watch, Bilbo thought.

Especially when there was no one else watching, aside from them. They were all much more open, then.

When Frodo came into the mix, small and nervous and quiet, Thorin even figured out a new way to treat him, like he did with his boys.

He was always very gentle with Frodo. Approached him in a subtle manner, crouched to his level, held his hand like it was the most precious jewel in the entire treasury. He'd lift Frodo up and hold him securely, with both arms and cautious eyes, or walk beside Frodo in the long corridors as though Frodo were as big and strong and scary as Dwalin, but only after saying _"If you wouldn't mind, Master Frodo?"_ first.

Bilbo was simply enraptured. He was able to see so many different sides to Thorin when he was around their nephews, and was able to seamlessly blend himself to their needs and wants. He never upset them, Bilbo noticed, not even little Frodo, who often frightened at the smallest sound. 

There was nothing he liked more than the sight of his lover and his family so comforted by each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For THE_PurpleShirt's birthday!
> 
> Probably not exactly what you were looking for, but I've wanted to write something like this for a while, and this was a good opportunity! Hope you like it~ <3


	25. Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a wait, he thought, a wait for a good time to surface and the next war to ravage the earth and for the afterlife.

The war was won, but it would never be over.

The wait for the afterlife was treacherous, now that the pinnacle of a life that had once been promising had been reached. The rest, in itself, would be rather bathetic in comparison - a decline, if nothing else.

It was difficult to heal from wounds that were only painful after closing up. It was a miraculous place of mind to be living in - where every stain of wine or tea was no longer so frustrating, where the stars seemed all alike rather than individual and provoked no feeling of vastness, where being saved from a goodtime elicited no sort of feeling or reaction that was to be expected.

Bilbo didn't understand it, not truly. 

_One war down, how many does this world have left?_

It was a wait, he thought, a wait for a good time to surface and the next war to ravage the earth and for the afterlife.

Endless waiting.

Thorin understood, pointlessly so. He was preoccupied in life, in physically healing a mountain so consumed by sickness and decay that he would never be able to accomplish it.

_Oh, it'll never be the same. This place has long since reached its afterlife._

People, however, continued to thrive in its halls.

Bilbo, and Thorin too, they didn't, not quite.

After the war, a quietness over took them. It wasn't all bad, necessarily, but less like leisure than one would like to imagine. 

It was difficult to fill one's time waiting for death with things that had once seemed exciting but were now nothing more than mundane and nothing less than boring.

Still, Bilbo managed. Thorin was _something_ \- rather than _someone,_ he found - that was entertaining, that managed to hold his attention. 

It was a sick way to live, to view people in measures of enjoyment rather than as _people._ It was so sick.

But it worked. Somehow, it worked. 

And Bilbo was sure he was nothing more than a measure of enjoyment for Thorin, too. Nothing more.


	26. During The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo accidentally kicks off the covers during the night.

"Thorin, move over, it's really cold."

Thorin grumbled something completely unintelligible, but dutifully shuffled across their large bed without a word.

Bilbo huffed, moving forwards to take up the warm place where Thorin had previously occupied. Somehow, during the middle of the night, he'd kicked off the covers and had shivered through the chilly night air for quite some time, it seemed.

"You alright?" Thorin asks, sounding more than half asleep.

"Just cold." Bilbo whispers back, bringing his hands up to rub the warmth into them. "I accidentally kicked the covers off."

Thorin chuckles, voice deep and hoarse will sleep. "Again?"

"Mmm."

"Come here, then."

Bilbo shuffles forwards, and coos happily as the warmth from Thorin's sleepy body seeps straight through his bones. Thorin's temperature always ran a little higher than usual, and he was more often than not willing to share it with Bilbo.

Even if that meant enduring Bilbo's cold little fingers, it seemed. 

"We should invest in an electric blanket." Thorin says around a face full of Bilbo's tangled curls. 

Bilbo hums in agreement. "Probably." He says with a yawn. "Where did the big quilt go? The blue one."

"I think it's in the hallway cupboard." Thorin says. "We'll get it out tomorrow night, hmm?"

"Alright, remind me to." Bilbo says, nuzzling his cold nose against Thorin's throat. 

Thorin, for what it was worth, didn't even flinch. Bilbo supposed he was used to this, by now - he had a bad knack for knocking off the covers at the worst of times. 

"Get some rest." Thorin says, kissing his forehead warmly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Alright." Bilbo agrees, his eyes slipping shut. "I love you."

"Love you too."


	27. Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo stumbles across an old portrait.

After the Battle of the Five Armies, it took some months for the commotion at Erebor to settle into something that could be considered peaceful. 

Bilbo liked to think he was involved in helping the mountain run. He didn't do any heavy lifting, or building, or excavating, but he did other things. He cleaned out and completely reorganised the great library, for one, with help from Ori and any other willing Dwarves that wandered through.

Thorin put him in charge of agriculture, too! That had been quite the shock, and not all Dwarves were pleased with it, but Bilbo hoped he had proved himself. Hobbits were known to have the greenest of thumbs, after all, and his tomatoes were always award-winning back in the Shire.

Maybe it was because he introduced vegetables to their diet, he thought with a small laugh. Dwarves weren't always fond of "green things". 

Sometimes, most often when it rained and there was not much he could do, Bilbo took strolls through the mountain. It was so expansive that there was always a place he had yet to see, and he liked to take advantage of his free days by exploring.

Still, he sometimes found himself discovering something new.

This time, it was in a deserted corridor that had only recently been cleared of dangerous debris. It was hidden high up on the wall, shrouded by ripped curtains that had been parted in passing by a careful stranger.

"Thorin..." Bilbo murmurs, eyes wide as he stares in awe at the portrait. "That's definitely Thorin, and Fili and Kili's mother..."

The corridor was dark, but even so Bilbo could make out all the small details represented in the portrait. The youthfulness of Thorin's face was startling - he was handsome, even at the age he had been, almost unceasingly so. His sister - Bilbo thought her name was Dis, but he was unsure - was just as youthful, with bands of gold around her forehead and wrists that drew attention to her vague air of femininity that Bilbo was unused to seeing.

The other Dwarf, small and younger with lighter hair that reminded Bilbo of Fili, stood next to them. "Who...?"

"Frerin."

Bilbo jumped at the voice, but Thorin's presence was steady as he wandered up to the portrait to stand beside Bilbo, arms folded.

"The little one is my brother, Frerin." Thorin reiterates, eyes focused firmly on the portrait. "This is the only portrait ever made of him."

"I didn't know you had a brother." Bilbo answers carefully, his eyes drifting up to Thorin's face.

"He was nothing like me." Thorin says, eyes downcast in a way that is reminiscent of an old-time sadness. "He was... he was always quick to laugh, and full of mischief. He was carefree - and then he was no more."

Bilbo felt his heat twinge. He didn't know what losing a sibling was like, but he imagined it to be very lonely. He wished he could understand, just to be closer to Thorin, even if only a little.

"He left me alone."

Bilbo instinctively reached out a hand, pressing it to Thorin's chest, just above his heart. "You're not alone." He says, without a thought, without a pause. "You have me."

Thorin glances down at him.

His face flushes. "Ah, n-not just me, of course! Fili, and Kili and Balin and..." Bilbo rushes, mortified as he quickly draws his hand back. "Oh dear, I didn't mean for it to sound so- so..."

Thorin's hand suddenly reaches around to cup the side of his head, fingers spread forwards to curl across his cheek and bring it close to press a kiss against his skin. "Thank you." He murmurs. 

Bilbo stares, wide-eyed and red as Thorin draws a few inches away.

"You are truly full of wonders." He says quietly, eyes uncharacteristically soft. 

Bilbo watches as he draws away fully, face hidden as he spins and begins back down the hallway. 

"Come along, Master Baggins." Thorin says over his shoulder, lifting a beckoning hand. "There is still much for us to do this day."

"O-oh, yes, sure..." Bilbo rushes to catch up, a hand pressed to his flushed cheek, even as he smiles to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [Closetshipping's](http://closetshipping.tumblr.com/) lovely little [comic](http://closetshipping.tumblr.com/post/88087287379/hnn-been-working-on-this-little-comic-for-some/)~
> 
>  
> 
> About "Afterlife" (from two days ago) -
> 
> A lot of people expressed concern for me due to the darker nature of that chapter, so I wanted to explain what it was about. I've always been able to sympathise was darker subjects - sadness, melancholy, nostalgia, things of that nature. I feel as though my writing has plateaued, and that I'm writing the same thing every day. It took a while, but I decided that I wanted to try and branch out into writing that is more subjective and dark in nature, and "Afterlife" was a sort of test run.
> 
> I want to write something that leaves an impact, and I feel as though the darker pieces are what find a place in a reader's mind, not necessarily because they are triggering or upsetting, because they make a reader _think._
> 
> I won't write like that often, but it's just something I've been thinking about~
> 
> Either way, thank you very much for your concern, it's very heart warming~ I'm alright, for now ^_^


	28. Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets someone unexpected at a meeting of the four great races.

The four races of Men, Dwarf, Elf and Hobbit all lived in different corners of the world. 

At any one point, it was unlikely that they would ever converge. Men were preoccupied with building programs and fighting off sickness, Dwarves were too deep in their mountains, Elves protected by shields of magic and glamour forests, and Hobbit's were no by stretch of the imagination travellers. 

However, once a year, when the night hours were at their longest, the four would meet.

Bilbo had never been to one of those such occasions. As the Thain's grandson, and now that he was of age, he was expected to attend. As a fan of tailoring and sewing and exquisite clothes, he had no qualms about attending an event where the finest examples of all races would be on show.

Still, he was nervous. He wore a cream-coloured suit, complete with a patterned waistcoat and a jacket embellished with gold buttons. Most of it was his mother's work - she was much more talented than he.

The palace that the event was held in was grand, full of sandstone walls and halls of columns with detailed capitals and enough chandeliers to dazzle even the least affected man. It was a wonderful feeling, he thought, to be so surrounded by activity and newness and faces he'd never seen before. 

"Now Bilbo, don't stray too far from other Hobbits." The Thain had said, eyes dark and serious, and of course Bilbo had nodded and agreed.

He didn't quite get along with the Thain, of whom Bilbo thought was much too stuck in the ways of the past. There wasn't much, however, that he could do to change the Thain's rule.

Except maybe fall in love.

 

Of course, he hadn't seen the Dwarf before he approached - the surprisingly tall one, with perfectly groomed dark hair and eyes the colour of chips of sapphire Bilbo saw peeking out of his mother's wedding ring. 

He must of been young, the Dwarf, captivatingly so - they were both young, when they first saw each other from across the great hall. The sea of ball gowns and lights and moving bodies seemed suddenly short between them, but Bilbo was _drawn_ to him like nothing else.

"Hello." The Dwarf said.

Bilbo forgot his assurances to the Thain, forgot about them completely. "Hello." He replied.

And they danced, that night, mixed in among a line of all races where neither the Thain nor the Dwarven King could properly see them.

His name was Thorin, and he was beautiful.

 

Upon returning to the Shire, Bilbo was summoned by the Thain. With his mother and father at his side, he was properly chastised to tears for breaking the rules in front of the entire town.

He didn't know how the Thain found out, but he guessed that word travelled fast when there was nothing more than gardening and gossiping to do.

 

Still, when a raven swooped into the skies above the hills and smials, Bilbo just knew it was from Thorin.

"Dear Bilbo," it began, "I hope I am not intruding on your time. I have to admit, I've become quite taken with you, more so than anyone else I've ever come across. I hope that we can meet again someday." 

It was signed off as Thorin, in surprisingly neat and concise handwriting, and Bilbo couldn't help but think that Thorin had taken much care in writing it.

He began his reply with _"Dear Thorin,"_ , and little did he know from then on his thoughts would be consumed with nothing other than the handsome Dwarf that had swept him off his feet.

 

When Thorin took a trip to the Blue Mountains, he sent Bilbo a raven with a letter asking if they could meet.

Bilbo replied with a carefully drawn map, guiding Thorin to meet him in a garden during the night that was close to the Shire.

After the lights had been blown out, and all was quite in the Shire, Bilbo wrapped a shawl around his shoulders and a scarf around his neck and rushed out to meet Thorin.

The Dwarf awaited him in the garden, a dim lantern clutched in his hand. 

Bilbo had never been so elated to see anyone. He ran up, stepping along the stone path as carefully as he could in his haste. 

Thorin caught him with welcoming arms, placing the lantern down in favour of reaching for him.

"Are you not cold?" Bilbo asks, lifting a hand to touch Thorin's face. His skin was chilled, but the Dwarf shook his head, as though he couldn't feel it. His cheeky little smile made Bilbo laugh, and he didn't hesitate in pulling his scarf around Thorin's neck.

"I'm glad to see you again." Thorin says, pressing their foreheads together. "I feel that with nothing more than letters this may all be in my head."

"It's not." Bilbo whispers. "I hope it's not."

 

Thorin couldn't often convince his father to let him travel all the way to the Blue Mountains. It was far from where he lived, and although Bilbo begged him not to go, there wasn't much either of them could do.

So they wrote letter after letter after letter. Bilbo feared the raven would be recognised, and after several months, it finally was.

The Thain found his letters, told his parents.

Called him a traitor.

Worse than that was his mother's disappointed look.

"Why, Bilbo?" She asks him one night, where he's safely tucked away in his room. 

"I love him." He says, lifting his watery eyes to her. "I can't explain it, but I loved him from the first time I saw him."

"He's a Dwarf." She says, taking his hand. "You barely know him."

Bilbo smiles weakly. "I know, I _know._ But it doesn't feel that way."

"Bilbo, there aren't many who would accept a union between the two of you." She says quietly, squeezing his hand.

Bilbo bit his lip, eyes downcast. "I love him." He repeats. "To me, he isn't a _Dwarf-_ He's Thorin. That's all I really know."

She gives him a weird sort of smile. "I'll talk to your father." She says. "I'll talk to the Thain, so please don't cry anymore."

Bilbo lifted his head, eyes wide.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and left him to his thoughts.

 

One last Raven came and went, before all ravens were banished from the Shire by the Thain.

_"Are you sure, Bilbo? I would hate to think that I've been the cause of displeasure among you and your family - they are the most important people in your life..._

_If it is truly what you want, I'll come for you. I'll never leave you, Bilbo, not until you tell me to do so and truly mean it. This... whatever this should be called, it is difficult, but it is real._

_Love, Thorin._

Bilbo thought on it for a while, before finally sending away the raven.

_"Please come."_

 

Bilbo was banned from the next meeting. Enthralled by the chance of seeing Thorin again, he'd gotten ready, and as he was leaving, the Thain had forbidden him to go.

So he waited, dressed in his finest clothes, from the windowsill. He didn't want anyone telling him how to feel anymore.

He'd never felt so alone.

 

His faith in Thorin was fading, as the night went on. As the shadows crept in, he felt as though it had really all been in his head, even as he clutched the letter where Thorin had been the first to introduced the word "love".

And then, out across the Shire, he saw someone.

Even blurred and distanced, he _knew_ it was Thorin.

He'd never felt as he did in that moment, when he stood from his seat beside the windowsill to peer through the glass panels, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and relief.

It was Thorin, he had no doubt.

His body felt weightless as he pushed away. His house seemed unfamiliar as he wound his way through it, as did the houses of the Shire - it was all new, because it didn't matter now, he just had to get past them.

But Thorin met him half way, sweeping him up in his arms tighter than he ever had before.

"Bilbo." He whispered, breathless, as he cupped Bilbo's face in his hands softly.

"Thorin." Bilbo answers, eyes teary, despite the wide smile stretching across his flushed cheeks.

"Bilbo, marry me." Thorin says, stroking his cheeks gently. "You'll never have to be alone."

"But, our families..."

"I'll talk to the Thain, to my father. I love you, Bilbo, I don't care what they say anymore." He says, leaning down to press a gently kiss to Bilbo's lips.

Bilbo laughed, reaching to cup Thorin's hands in his own. "I don't either!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by an anon on tumblr who wanted something based on Taylor Swift's "Love Story"~


	29. At Your Discretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birds are very responsive to Bilbo.

Hobbit's could manipulate the natural environment, to a certain extent. 

Some had talents where other's didn't, but generally the Hobbits were experts at living in harmony with nature. Plants, birds, insects... Sometimes, it was beautiful to see. 

The Dwarves were unused to it, however. 

Bilbo sighed, glad to finally have some time to himself once again. Rebuilding Erebor took an uncanny amount of time, and he was often too busy to relax.

But now things were running relatively smoothly, and Bilbo could breathe again.

Thorin had gifted him a small section of land for a personal garden, after seeing how well the crops of the Dwarves flourished under his attentive care. It was a wonderful gift, Bilbo thought, especially for a Hobbit. He'd even provided Bilbo with a wonderfully crafted bench, which he'd instantly placed in the shade of a tree. Potted plants surrounded it's feet, and there was even an acorn carved into one leg. 

He stretched luxuriously on the bench, watching as birds of all shapes flittered into his garden, being mindful of his growing crops. Many chirped at him as though he could truly understand them. The ravens, in particular, were adventurous enough to drop in and sit on his shoulders or, for one in particular, in his lap.

Thorin wandered out to join him sometime later, as he often did.

"Why do the birds react to you so?" He asks, seated beside Bilbo on the little bench as he watches the animals flitter about the garden.

"It's something Hobbits are attuned to." He says, obediently scratching the raven's feathers in all the right places. "Weird little things, aren't they?"

Thorin chuckles. "I suppose so." He says. "I've never seen them act like this."

"They wouldn't, for anyone else." Bilbo says. "I could ask them to, but ravens are especially independent."

"You can speak to them?"

"Sort of." Bilbo shrugs. "Hobbits are very attuned to nature. All Hobbits are good at gardening, and growing, but some have an affinity for fauna as well. I like birds, and birds seem to like me too!"

Thorin smiles faintly. It was a handsome look on his stern face. "I see. Well, I'll leave you be-"

"You can stay." Bilbo says, before flushing in embarrassment. "I-I mean, only if you wish to, of course, it's completely at your discretion-"

"I'll stay." Thorin says, carefully reaching for his hand as though Bilbo would possibly reject his touch. "For as long as you allow me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I remember asking this a few months ago and I was going to ask at the end of the month but I'll likely forget (oopsy daisy~ ^^")
> 
> But do you have a favourite/most memorable story of mine from this year so far?


	30. Eighty-Seven Percent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't get along. Really.

"We don't get along."

They really didn't, but their powers were so suited to one another that they were never paired off with anyone else.

Bilbo was the son of Belladonna Baggins, famous for her ability to read minds and unravel the human consciousness. While his father was a human, and therefore powerless, Bilbo had inherited her gift, and been sent to the special school for kids with developing "superpowers", as they were called. 

Thorin was the son of Thrain, famous for being powerless after developing Gold Sickness, now disgraced and vanished. While many people feared Thorin, Bilbo didn't - in fact, he admired his powers, because his ability to control objects and people alike was outstanding.

He was just _sick_ of him, and of his attitude and his face and the fact that he left the bathroom floor soaked after every shower. 

Due to their compatibility (highest the school had ever recorded, apparently, at eighty-seven percent) they had been paired up in every single way possible. Battle partners, simulator partners, teamwork partners, game partners, study partners, even bus partners and roommates. 

Bilbo sighed as they lounged around in the common room, watching people mess around with their own partners and powers. He had his leg thrown across Thorin's thigh as he slouched against the couch, because even though he disliked Thorin, they were _frustratingly_ close. 

"I don't like you." He mutters bitterly, shaking his leg a little to grab Thorin's attention.

"I don't like you either." Thorin says, utterly distracted as he watches a burning candle spin around - his own doing, of course. He was always moving stuff around when he was bored, and it was annoying because he never put it back.

"Then why are we at eighty-seven?" Bilbo complains.

Thorin shrugs, disinterested. 

Bilbo sighs, but brightens a little when Bofur and Nori walk in, accompanied by Dwalin and little Ori (who was surprisingly seventy percent compatible with the big brute). 

"Ah, and here are the lovebirds!" Bofur snickers, dropping down beside Bilbo. "How's it going?"

Bilbo scowls at him, slouching further into the couch. "Splendid."

Bofur grins, leaning closer. "Is that so?"

The candle, blown out, suddenly bounces off his forehead, and Bilbo can't help but snicker.

Thorin got ridiculously jealous when anyone got close to Bilbo, even their own friends. He'd been approached to form new partnerships (not technically allowed, but for single battles and one-off simulations it was overlooked) and Thorin always manipulated those people away.

Of course, Bilbo would have complained, if his gut didn't twist up in distaste whenever someone approached Thorin.

Bofur huffs, leaning away even as the others laughed. "Yeah, yeah, you brooding oaf. I get the boundary. Geez."

Bilbo shrugged, but made no comment as Thorin's hand dropped to grip his thigh. His skin was surprisingly warm.

"You guys get along well." Ori says, grinning knowingly.

"We really don't."


	31. Pamper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is an omega, but nobody knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Thorin/Dwalin implied~

Living in Erebor was very straining, sometimes.

As an omega, there were many things that Bilbo had became so accustomed to that he felt physically drained without. Sunshine, for one, as it wasn't very common deep in the mountain. The comforts of his safe, familiar Hobbit-hole were another, but he supposed that that just lumped it all together.

Still, the Dwarves were very accommodating, even if they didn't know he was an omega. He had a nice little room, with all the furnishings he could find squirreled away in spare rooms and closets. He was allowed to leave the mountain as frequently as he wished, too, but it just didn't feel the same as it once did.

He supposed he was just lonely. He'd been lonely, before, too - when he lived in Bag-End, but the luxury and independence of it all had him comfortable and settled. He'd grown used to the company of Dwarves he'd gone on a journey with, and now that everyone was busy, he felt rather out of place.

It had him thinking about an alpha, even if he hadn't had the desire for one in quite some years.

He knew that most of the Dwarves here were betas, but some were alphas. He could smell it on them. 

It was oddly tantalizing, if he were being honest. He hadn't thought Hobbits and Dwarves could be compatible in that sense, but if he could smell them, and was attracted to their scents... well, anything was possible. 

Still, he didn't think he'd find himself _drawn_ to anyone, let alone _two_ Dwarves. And of course, he just had to like the scents of the two Dwarves he really shouldn't bother-

It was ridiculous, really, and it was starting to take over his mind.

He sighed as he wandered around the library, fixing up books. It was something he was able to help with, so he was happy to do it. He felt bad about not being able to do much other than sort books and work in the kitchen, but it wasn't as though he could clear away debris or work down in the mine shafts. He didn't have the expertise (or muscle) for the more important jobs.

He was piling an armful of books up onto a shelf when Ori suddenly turned the corner, looking perplexed.

"Hello, Ori." Bilbo says, dropping back onto the soles of his feet. "Can I help you?"

Ori's frown only deepens. "You smell really..." He starts, sounding concerned.

Bilbo stands straighter, looking down at his clothes. "I smell?"

"No!" Ori exclaims, looking embarrassed. "I mean, you smell really different."

Ori was a beta, and like the rest of the Dwarves, he probably assumed Bilbo was a beta too. 

Bilbo shrugs a little, licking his lips nervously. "Might be the flowers in my room."

Ori nods, though he still looks a little confused.

Bilbo smiles tightly. "If you don't mind, I must be going..."

He didn't wait for Ori's reply, instead brushing past him as fast as possible. Ori didn't stop him, and Bilbo continued on, as quickly as he could, to escape back into his room.

The Dwarves shouldn't have been able to smell him. 

If they could smell him, they would work out he's an omega, and that would be bad. He didn't even know if Dwarves _had_ omegas - he'd never scented one, not in the entirety of Erebor. He didn't want them to think any less of him.

He didn't know why his scent was suddenly becoming prominent. After he'd gone through several heats without a partner, his "omega" scent had settled, and was no longer actively trying to draw in potential mates. It should still be like that, it wasn't like he would have another heat, not after missing them for so long.

Would he?

It didn't make sense, and he was kind of worried.

 

Bilbo woke up during the night surprisingly hot. He twisted in his sheets for a little, groaning. It wasn't like a heat, not nearly as bad, but it was something so achingly similar that he was sort of frightened.

He couldn't fall asleep after that, no matter what he tried, so he ended up leaving his room in search of somewhere cooler to spend the night.

He ended up in the kitchen, eating a slice of slightly tough bread from the night's dinner, of which he'd skipped. He couldn't help but press against the cold countertop, looking for relief.

The scent of pure _alpha_ suddenly wafted into the room, and he could feel all the cells in his body jumping to attention. He sat up straighter, tentatively sniffing the air, and oh did it smell really good. He almost whined, but managed to reel himself in before the noise could leave his throat. 

It was Dwalin and Thorin that walked in the room not a moment later, looking as frustratingly handsome as ever.

Bilbo shrunk under their gaze, instantly knowing the moment they sensed his scent. It was hard not to, what with the way they suddenly _stared_ at him like they did. 

"Mr Baggins..." Thorin starts, eyes hooded. "Is there something you have neglected to inform us of?"

Bilbo twitched nervously. "I... I didn't think this would happen." He admits, rushed. "This- this shouldn't have happened, I haven't had a heat in years, and I- I don't even know what's happening to me."

Thorin strides closer, Dwalin following behind him, to take Bilbo's face in his hand. Bilbo flinches, squeezes his eyes shut as he whimpers, fearing the worst. 

Instead, Thorin just observes him. "Why are you so frightened?" He murmurs. "Omegas are to be treasured, not cast aside."

Bilbo peers up at him, heart hammering. "Omegas are nothing special." He mutters, looking down. They were common in the Shire, no more interesting than a beta or an alpha.

"That's-!" Thorin starts, unintentionally tightening his grip enough to make Bilbo cringe.

Dwalin batted Thorin's hand away, quickly replacing it with his own. "Thorin, be gentle!" He growls. "You'll bruise his pretty face."

Thorin observes Bilbo's face, then takes his hand. "Omegas are exceedingly rare, Bilbo." He says gently. "In our culture, omegas are very treasured. The ability to reproduce is something we think highly of, and as such as we treat our omegas with the greatest care, whether they are a warrior or a scribe or a miner."

Bilbo stares, wide-eyed. He... he _wanted that,_ wanted that from _them._ He didn't know if that was selfish of him, because he didn't know if he were even capable of carrying after so many heatless years, but he still wanted it so, so much...

Dwalin lets out a gruff sigh, as though he could possibly read Bilbo's thoughts. "You just want to be pampered." He states. "You ain't ever had that, have ye? Let us do it."

Bilbo's lips part in shock, just a little. "But..."

"It's not just because you're an omega." Thorin says, tightening his grip on Bilbo's hand. "Even if you weren't, this is what we decided upon. If you are willing, we would like to care for you."

Bilbo chews on his lip, but nods his head, even as his face turns bright red. 

Thorin gives him a startlingly handsome grin, and without any warning he reaches down and lifts Bilbo into his arms.

Bilbo splutters, but Dwalin gently cups his head, silencing him.

"You could do with a bit of pampering." He says, fingers rubbing against Bilbo's scalp soothingly. 

Bilbo's scent rolls off his body, thickening the air pleasurably, and he could _feel_ Thorin's arms tense in response.

Dwalin, however, seems to take it in his stride and smirks knowingly. "See? We'll spoil you rotten, just how you want."

Bilbo squirms for a moment, unable to help himself. He felt warm all over, but this warmth was better, more pleasurable. He glanced at them both, one after the other, and at their reassuring looks he settles into Thorin's arms.

"You'll have to let me spoil you, too." He whispers, face aflame. 

The pleased rumbles he gets in reply are very satisfying.


End file.
